


Long Way Down

by HeyAssbuttImBatman



Series: A Hymn for the Hymnless Kids [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Daddy Issues, Diners, Don't worry there's plot too, Fluff, Gen, Hell, Hitchhiking, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Jealousy, Lots of dialogue, Lucifer's Cage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, Small towns in Kansas, TW: Panic Attacks, TW: non-graphic depictions of self harm, TW: slightly graphic depictions of torture, lots of anger, some angst maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-04 00:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12759222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyAssbuttImBatman/pseuds/HeyAssbuttImBatman
Summary: The Cage isn't really all it's cracked up to be.(In which Adam spends a few hundred years in the Cage with two murderous archangels before they're suddenly dumped back on earth. Humanity takes some getting used to.)





	1. Adam

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of fell in love with all three of these dorks as I was writing this, so you can probably expect more Adam, Lucifer, and Michael from me in the future. 
> 
> Anyway, it's Nanowrimo right now, so updates won't be that often, but there's only three chapters of this, so that shouldn't matter that much.
> 
> Also, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U-ZDBddRXFA) is the theme song for this entire fic and is where I got the title.
> 
> Also pt. 2, the Enochian word that Adam shoves into his song is actually spelled Toltorg and means something like "creatures of the earth" according to [this Enochian dictionary](http://www.angelfire.com/empire/serpentis666/Enochian1.html). The way it's spelled in the fic is just the way it's pronounced.

Adam doesn’t remember the fall through the rift, doesn’t remember much of anything except feeling his own older brother grab him by the arms and yank him into Hell. And then he wakes up in the Cage, aptly named and surrounded by a circle of towering red-white flames. It’s hot and cramped, yes, but altogether not torturous. At least, not at first, and not for him.

The square gaps in the bottom of the cage are just big enough for Adam’s feet to slip through and get caught if he’s not careful, so he spends many of his first hundred or so years huddled carefully in the corner with his knees drawn up and his head in his arms. With his shoulders pressed against his ears, he can almost ignore his roommates. 

Lucifer and Michael are no longer inside of Adam and Sam, and Adam has yet to discern if this is a good thing or not. On the one hand, he has control of his body back. On the other, Michael and Lucifer entertain themselves by torturing Sam. Adam thought that he could handle whatever happened down there.

He was wrong. 

The first time a peeled-off strip of Sam’s skin lands within his line of sight, Adam nearly throws up. He squeezes his eyes shut and clamps his hands over his ears, rocks back and forth on his ass and sings every song he knows in an attempt to drown out the sounds. He doesn’t want to hear the wet, gurgling squelch that comes every time one of Sam’s limbs is pulled off, or the deceptively subtle tearing sound as skin is pulled from muscle, or the muffled snap that indicates one or more bones has been broken. Louder than any of these noises are Michael and Lucifer’s voices, hard and angry and speaking in a language that Adam’s never heard, isn’t sure even comes from Earth. 

But the worst of it all is the screaming, the raw, tortured, hopeless sounds that tear themselves painfully from Sam’s throat, strangled like he’s trying to hold them back but just can’t because the pain is too intense, too all-consuming. 

Adam’s never liked either of his older half-brothers, but even Sam doesn’t deserve this. Still, all the pity in the world can’t stop the traitorous little thought that crosses his mind every now and then. _I’m glad it’s him and not me_. Adam doesn’t worry about how fucked up that makes him; getting trapped in Hell with Satan, an angel, and their living chew toy really puts things into perspective, and when faced with that reality, fucked up thoughts are the least of his worries. 

So Adam closes his eyes and sings his songs to drown out the noise and tries not to go insane. He barely notices when something comes and takes Sam’s body away, and the only reason he does notice is because it leaves behind something that wasn’t there before. It’s a small ball of light, flickering in a way that looks distinctly wary, and the terrifying grins that split the angels’ faces when they see it make Adam shiver even in the oppressive heat. 

Most of the sounds stop after that, including the screaming, but Adam can still hear it sometimes, when he lets his guard down and remembers his brother, and when those times come he starts right back up with the singing. He thinks it adds a nice sense of ambience, the singing and the torture and the two twisted grins that split two different faces.

But eventually, even the ball of light leaves, and suddenly Adam is faced with the complete and undivided attention of the two most terrifying things he’s ever met. They all study each other, Lucifer with contempt and Michael with disinterest and Adam with fear, until the stalemate is broken when Lucifer scoffs and turns away. He goes to sit in a corner, sprawling one leg out and resting his arm on the bent knee of the other. Michael simply stands at the side of the Cage and looks out, at the fire, at the suffocating black void that’s past the flames. Adam cries from relief and doesn’t even have the will to wipe his own tears.

Adam’s head returns to his knees, but this time he doesn’t cover his ears. There aren’t any sounds to block out now, no screaming or squelching or tearing or snapping, no speaking or singing or even the crackle that usually accompanies flames. If it weren’t for the soft sighs of his own breathing, Adam would’ve thought he’d gone deaf. 

To stave off boredom, he starts counting. He counts the bars of the cage, the number of time Lucifer’s fist clenches angrily, his own breaths, and then he counts the seconds in an attempt to keep track of the time. It’s mindless work but instead of letting his mind wander, he fixates on the numbers that run through his mind, focuses on nothing but digits and syllables and the unachievable goal of counting to infinity. 

He probably would have gone on counting forever had Lucifer and Michael not gotten into another fight, somewhere around five hundred million seconds. Adam snaps out of his stupor at the sounds of the first angry shout, still in that strange language he’s beginning to grasp. Adam’s not good enough at mental math to figure out how many years he’s been here, but he judges it’s been a pretty fucking long time. 

As the angels’ fight gets physical, Adam uncurls from his huddled position with much stiffness and wincing. He carefully stands up, balancing on two of the bars and holding onto the sides of the cage as blood rushes back to his extremities. There’s a thud and an angry yelp from the other side of the Cage and Adam glances warily at the angels as he shakes pins and needles out of his legs. So far, Michael and Lucifer have been content to ignore him, but that doesn’t mean they don’t still terrify the shit out of him.

His foot slips when he tries to take a step and he gasps as he jerks and falls. The sound draws the attention of the angels and they all freeze, Adam with his hands white-knuckled around the bars of the Cage and the angels with angry snarls on their bloody faces. Adam doesn’t even breathe as they appraise him, his heart beating double time and his breath coming in fast pants. With Sam out of the Cage, it was only a matter of time until they turned their wrath on him, and he doesn’t think—no, he _knows_ he’s not strong enough to withstand torture. 

As if they can sense his thoughts, the angels both sneer and turn away from him. Surprisingly, they turn away from each other, too, and go back to their spots in the corner and by the side of the Cage. Adam shuts his eyes and wills his breathing to even out, his heart to slow, and his hands to release their death grip on the bars. He doesn’t think he’s able to die down here, but his body apparently never got the memo; it’s shaking worse than it did when he almost drowned when he was a kid. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there (he refuses to start counting again) before he stops shaking and calms down. He releases a breath as quietly as he can and refuses to look at either Michael or Lucifer as he carefully walks across the Cage, one hand on the side to help him balance as he steps from bar to bar. They’re close enough together that he could balance on two at a time, one under his toes and the other under his heel, but he’s not yet comfortable enough to put all his faith in his wonky balance. 

He can practically feel two stares burning holes into his sides as he walks across the Cage, turns, and makes his way back to the other side. It’s tempting to look up and see what the expressions on their faces look like, but Adam resists. He doesn’t know what’ll set them off but he doesn’t want to risk doing anything they could take as aggression. They’re already tense enough as it is.

Adam walks back and forth, back and forth, hundreds if not thousands of times, until he’s so good at navigating the bars of the Cage that it’s as effortless as striding down a sidewalk. In all that time, neither Michael nor Lucifer moved at all except to watch Adam. The one time he made eye contact with Lucifer he got nothing but a fierce snarl in return, so he’s kept his head bowed and his eyes on the bottom of the Cage. 

Now, though, he raises his head and slowly stretches the kinks out of his neck, rolls his shoulders, clasps his hands behind his back and pulls to loosen up his spine. The amount of popping noises that emerge from him is alarming, and he wonders if he’ll become frozen if he stays in one position too long. The thought makes him think of Michael and Lucifer, and his eyes flick to them before he can remember what a bad idea that is. They’re not looking at him, for once, so Adam takes this rare opportunity to study them. 

Michael hasn’t moved so much as an inch, still standing in the corner with his arms crossed and his back military straight. He’s at a slight angle so he can see both Adam and Lucifer if he turns his head, but facing forward for him means facing the void out beyond their prison. Lucifer, on the other hand, has his eyes closed and is stretched out in his own corner like he’s perfectly comfortable, but Adam can see the strain in every line of his body. In fact, both of them are practically statues, holding themselves so still that they don’t even look alive, especially since they’re not breathing. 

Adam looks away before they can catch him staring, but he doesn’t go back to pacing. Instead, he leans back against the bars of the Cage and mimics both Michael and Lucifer, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. This time his mind actually does wander, jumping from subject to subject randomly. He thinks of his mother and father and the two men who are technically his stepbrothers, and he thinks of the bite of cold wind in the winter, his favourite flavour of ice cream, the color of the leaves his neighbors pay him to rake up. 

He thinks of the fury that twisted Michael’s face and the cold-eyed stare on Lucifer’s as they tortured Sam, the irritation and dead eyes as they looked at Adam, the carefully neutral looks on their faces as they sit in total stillness. But most of all, Adam thinks of the way that it’s been at least a few years since he was locked down here in Hell, and no one has come for him. No one will ever come for him because his parents are both dead and the stepbrothers he never really trusted clearly don’t care about him. 

Suddenly furious, Adam turns to Michael and Lucifer and barks, “Hey, assholes. How long have we been down here?”

Both angels start and turn to him with incredulous stares, and Adam has to hold back laughter he’s sure would come out hysterical. He doesn’t know if they’re surprised because of how he addressed them or because he addressed them at all, but he’s too pissed to care. 

“Um.” Lucifer’s eyes flick to Michael, who merely shakes his head in bewilderment. “Almost two hundred years.”

And as Adam chokes and starts hyperventilating, Michael adds, “But it’s only been about a year and a half on Earth.”

“Thank you, that makes me feel _so_ much better,” Adam says sarcastically, sinking down into a crouch and sticking his head between his knees. Two hundred years he’s been down here, two hundred years without food or water or sunshine, without speaking or sleeping or interacting with another person. 

A few minutes later (though it could be a few years for all he knows about Hell time) he looks up and is surprised to find both angels staring at him with indecipherable looks on their faces. He remembers that just because they haven’t tortured him for two hundred years doesn’t mean they won’t start, not when they have the rest of eternity together, so he resists the urge to sneer at them, instead going back to pacing. After a while, he starts singing again, if only to fill the silence and to keep himself from going another two hundred years without talking. 

He’s only gone through twenty songs when Lucifer speaks again. Adam quiets automatically until he realizes that it’s to Michael in whatever weird language they speak, and then he starts singing again, trying and failing to not listen as intently as he is. He may not understand the language but he sure as hell can recognize the tones they’re using. Lucifer’s voice is dripping with disdain and sarcasm and burning fury. Michael’s voice is almost inflectionless, but Adam can hear the undercurrent of cold anger as he replies to his brother, syllables short and sharp and cutting. 

The speaking turns into shouting after a while, but Adam doesn’t sing louder. He stops pacing and closes his eyes and listens as he sings, taking random phrases from the angels’ fight and shoving them into his songs just for the hell of it. 

“I’ve been fucking around while you were toh-lah-toh-rahjzh,” Adam sings. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Michael and Lucifer have stopped fighting and are staring at him. “I’ve been out of my mind and I’ve been dreaming things and scheming things.”

“What,” Lucifer says flatly. Adam cracks open an eye and looks at him, and tries not to snort at his unimpressed expression. 

“Do not dare attempt to speak our language,” Michael warns angrily. “You defile it.”

“Is my pronunciation bad?” Adam asks. 

“Atrocious,” Lucifer says. 

“Oh. Then teach me how to say it properly.”

“...What.”

“Enochian is the language of the divine,” Michael says. He’s not sneering but it looks and sounds like he wants to. “Humans aren’t worthy of hearing it, let alone speaking it.”

“Ouch,” Adam says dryly. “That’s harsh, don’t you think?”

“Shut up!” Lucifer hisses. “You may not be able to die down here but that doesn’t mean you can’t still bleed.”

A chill snakes its way down his spine at the threat and Adam shivers. Michael and Lucifer may have been acting like overgrown children for the past few—decades?—but they’re still more than capable of going back to the torture, even if Sam’s gone. That thought sparks another, and Adam doesn’t care enough to rein in his curiosity. 

“Do you blame me for what happened?” he asks. “For us getting locked in the Cage?”

Neither angel so much as looks at him, but Adam is a patient person. He stares them down and doesn’t say a word until eventually Lucifer caves.

“No,” he says. His eyes flick to Michael. “At least, I don’t. You’re a pawn, a backup vessel. You’re not important enough to be blamed for this.”

Of course Satan would be able to guess your innermost insecurities. The comment stings and Lucifer knows it, judging by the satisfied little smirk on his face, but Adam merely shrugs and refuses to show how much it bothers him.

“What about you, Michael?” he says. The angel doesn’t answer. “Mikey? Michelangelo? Magic Mike?”

“I will rip out your eyes and shove them down your throat,” Michael says. Adam thinks he remembers something similar happening to Sam and he knows it’s no idle threat, but the longer they let him get away with being annoying, the more confident he becomes that they won’t do anything to him. 

“Answer the question and I’ll stop,” Adam says. Michael groans in frustration, a strangely human reaction that Adam wasn’t expecting.

“Yes, I blame you!” Michael snaps. “You and every single accursed Winchester, bastard child or not.”

Adam is silent for a pause. “Are all angels assholes, or did I get stuck with Heaven’s douchiest? And I’m not a Winchester.” He can’t keep the distaste out of his tone. “I’m a Milligan.”

“You’re the spawn of John Winchester,” Michael says. “That’s reason enough.”

“Reason enough for what?” Adam asks snarkily. He gasps when Lucifer moves suddenly, too fast for him to do anything other than widen his eyes. The air escapes his lungs in an explosive exhale as he’s slammed against the wall of the Cage, pinned by his throat. He panics and struggles instinctively but Lucifer doesn’t move an inch. His face is set in a furious snarl and for the first time in a long time, Adam is truly afraid. 

“Reason enough to hate you,” Lucifer says. “Now _shut up_.”

He gives one more squeeze for good measure, then lets Adam drop unceremoniously to the floor. The fall sends the air out of his lungs with a sharp whoosh! and agony flaring up and across Adam’s already bruised back, and for a moment he can’t do anything except lie there with his mouth open in a silent scream and his hands clutching at his shirt. A tiny, wretched cough escapes his ruined throat and it’s like a floodgate has been opened, hacking coughs wracking his frame as he tries to suck in as much air as possible. His throat feels like it’s on fire and he doesn’t need a mirror to know that bruises are blossoming across his neck.

“Pathetic,” Lucifer scoffs, returning to his corner. He bares his teeth as Michael, who stares stonily back for only a moment before turning his attention to Adam. Even through Adam’s tear-blurred vision, Michael is clearly aggravated. 

“Was that necessary?” he asks, sounding completely disinterested despite the intensity with which he watches Adam struggle up onto his hands and knees. 

“Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for him,” Lucifer says, disgusted. “He’s just a Winchester.”

Michael turns to look at him. “Thay may be, but that doesn’t mean he deserves this,” he mumbles. 

“You didn’t seem all that upset about torturing dear old Sammy. What’s so different about this one?”

Adam is curious about that, too. Some would say that what Lucifer did to him was torturous enough, but Adam has seen firsthand just how cruel and creative he can be. Pinning Adam by his throat like a bug on a corkboard was Lucifer pulling his punches way back, but what he can’t figure out is why.

“Like you said before, this one is just a pawn,” Michael says softly. “He is pathetic and a Winchester, yes, but he was by no means the mastermind behind our fall into the Cage.”

“You literally just said that you blamed him,” Lucifer says dryly. “What’s changed in the last two minutes?”

“Nothing’s changed. I lied about blaming him because he was being annoying.”

Lucifer gives a fake, dramatic gasp of surprise. “You lied? _You_? I’m shocked, Michael. That’s a sin, and that’s my schtick.”

Michael glares. “You’re a disgrace to Heaven and the Father and we are as similar as a half-rotted corpse is to the evening star. Do _not_ compare us.”

Adam tunes them out then, more interested in trying to breathe properly than in listening to their argument. The burn in his throat has lessened somewhat, though it still hurts to breathe, and his entire back feels like someone took a sledgehammer to it. He feels like shit, frankly.

“Am I the corpse or the star?” Lucifer asks. Michael punches him in the face, and the last thing Adam sees before he passes out is the Devil’s bloodstained teeth grinning out at him from below ice cold eyes.

 

When Adam wakes up, nothing hurts. He distinctly remembers having his windpipe almost shattered, though, so he can’t figure out why he’s not at least sore. And then he thinks, _Right, I’m in Hell_. Funny how he doesn’t feel anything except for mild irritation at that development. 

He can’t seem to find the will to open his eyes. After two hundred years without sleep, it’s heaven to linger in that murky place between sleep and consciousness. The only downside is that it takes him a while to realize he’s not lying on the bars of the Cage like he should be, but on something that’s warm, soft but firm, and shaking slightly. Something like another person. But that’s ridiculous, right? Because the only other people down here with him are…. 

Adam goes from lying prone to scrambling back in two seconds flat, which he thinks might be the fastest he’s ever woken up. His eyes are wide as he takes in the sight of Michael lying flat on his back, his head propped up on his arms and an irritated look on his face. Lucifer, thankfully sitting in his corner, snickers. 

“What the _fuck_ ,” Adam says. His voice is still a little scratchy, and talking tickles and makes him want to cough. 

“Michael lost a bet,” Lucifer says. 

“So you put me on top of him?” Adam asks disbelievingly. He pauses. “What was the bet about?”

“Whether or not you’d wake up as your throat knit itself back together,” Michael says. “I bet that you would.”

“Huh,” Adam says. “How long was I asleep?”

“Only a few hours,” Lucifer says. He grins sleazily. “I wanted to wake you up so you could enjoy the incredibly painful healing process, but you look so cute when you sleep. Did you know that you respond if someone talks to you?”

Adam’s mouth twists. “That’s creepy and disgusting,” he says, resolving to never fall asleep in front of Lucifer again. He clears his throat and then winces when that causes pain to flare up. It feels like the really bad sore throat he always gets when he catches a cold, except without the migraines and stuffy nose. At least he’s not cold, what with the fire raging all around him. He frowns, suddenly remembering something. 

“Hey, Michael,” he says. The angel turns to look at him lazily, still lying on the floor. “Are you cold?”

Michael tenses visibly. To Adam’s surprise, Lucifer does, too. 

“We’re surrounded by fire,” Michael says. 

“That’s not an answer,” Adam says. “I felt you shivering, dude.”

Lucifer hisses in wordless displeasure. If he had hackles, Adam’s pretty sure they’d be raised.

“It’s no concern of yours,” Michael says, which is the most polite “Butt out” that Adam’s ever heard. 

“Michael, it’s not a big deal,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’m just curious. What am I going to do if you tell me?” He doesn’t mention that Michael’s as good as confessed by avoiding the question.

“Yes, I’m cold,” Michael finally admits. “And so is Lucifer, in case you were wondering.”

“Traitor,” Lucifer mutters. Michael bristles and Adam steps in before their entire history gets dragged out into the open, which would inevitably result in another fist fight. 

“Why are you so cold?” he asks. “Like you said, there’s fire everywhere. I’m actually kind of hot.”

Lucifer sneers. “Figures you would be. Filthy atheist.”

Adam blinks. “What,” he says. 

“For those used to being constantly bathed in the warmth of God’s love, Hell is a freezing wasteland,” Michael explains. “It’s the farthest you can be from Him and His light.”

“So anyone who doesn’t believe in Him doesn’t feel the cold,” Lucifer finishes. He sounds almost bored, but his eyes are hard as they bore into Adam’s.

“Huh,” Adam says, because he doesn’t know how else to reply. And now that it’s been pointed out to him, it’s really easy to see the tiny tremors that run through Lucifer’s body even with as still as he’s holding himself. Michael, it seems, has given up the pretense and is openly shivering. He looks kind of pathetic, honestly. “Were you warm when I was on top of you? Because I don’t remember you shivering that much.”

Michael presses his lips together, but relents fairly quickly. “Humans run warm,” he says, which is about as straight of an answer as Adam was expecting. Barely holding back a smirk, he opens his arms wide in the universal ‘Hug me’ gesture. Michael glares half-heartedly at him.

“I think not,” he says. Lucifer doesn’t even laugh like he normally would. It seems exposing his weaknesses puts him in a bad mood. Adam doesn’t pay him any attention, instead taking a few steps closer to Michael, who shoots to his feet and takes a few steps back. His lip curls. “Stay back.”

Adam grins. “Aw, come on. You said it yourself, I’m all nice and warm.”

“I will hurt you,” Michael warns, the threat anything but empty. Adam ignores it in favor of darting forward, intending to catch Michael in a sneak attack and at least get in one squeeze before he’s pushed off. Michael sees it coming and sidesteps easily, but he’s unprepared for the way Adam’s hand darts out and grabs onto his wrist. Adam’s foot gets caught in one of those damn holes in the Cage floor, sending him sprawling to the floor. They both go down in a tangle of limbs. Adam twists in midair so that he lands painfully on his back with a yelp, while Michael emits a surprised huff when he ends up on top of Adam.

Adam doesn’t loosen his grip, though, and Michael is stunned enough that Adam can wrap his arms around him securely before he starts to struggle. Adam knows the angels are still unnaturally strong, even down here in Hell, but it’s almost too easy for him to keep Michael trapped against his chest despite struggles that aren’t really all that sincere. Adam hides a smile in Michael’s hair and carefully doesn’t look at Lucifer. 

After a few moments, Michael “gives up” with a petulant huff, and Adam deems it safe to wiggle until he’s upright against the Cage wall with Michael sitting in between his legs, back to chest. His arms remain wrapped around the angel’s shoulders. Michael sighs quietly and doesn’t move when Adam leans back against the wall, drawing them both into a slightly reclined position. He’s still tense, but the shivers have already lessened. Adam was only hoping to fluster Michael, not actually help him warm up, but he can’t deny that doing the right thing makes him feel pleased. Stupid human empathy. 

“You both look ridiculous,” Lucifer says, still sitting in the corner directly across from Adam and Michael. Adam can’t tell which of them Lucifer’s glaring at. 

“I _feel_ ridiculous,” Michael says, but he stays where he is. 

“Well, I don’t,” Adam says cheerfully. “A lot of humans actually like cuddling, you know.”

“Ridiculous,” Lucifer repeats. Adam scoffs softly but doesn’t say anything else, too comfortable to risk angering Lucifer enough for him to start a fight. It’s surprisingly nice to sit here with Michael’s weight resting against him—heavy, but not uncomfortably so. He’s never really been this physically close with someone before, unless you count that time in eighth grade when his first girlfriend leaned her head on his shoulder while they were sitting in the bleachers at a basketball game. 

So many decades without any type of physical contact is enough to make any innocent touch tingle, but the position he and Michael are in right now is already intimate. It doesn’t help that the sensations are so much stronger after so long without; he’s acutely aware of Michael’s shoulders under his arms even through two layers of thick jacket, his back against Adam’s chest and his head carefully tipped back to rest on Adam’s shoulder. His hair tickles the side of Adam’s neck and his heart beats under Adam’s hand even though he’s not breathing, and all of a sudden it’s too much, too overwhelming. 

Michael stiffens when Adam buries his face into his neck, his arms tightening around the angel and his breath leaving him in a shuddery huff. He feels Michael’s neck shift when he turns his head and hears the confused noise he makes, and assumes that he’s looking at Lucifer. 

“Humans need physical contact,” Lucifer drawls. Adam can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “There’s a bunch of negative effects of not getting enough.”

“Will he die if he doesn’t receive as much as he should be getting?” Michael asks. Adam remembers that angels don’t form attachments as easily as humans do and tries not to feel offended by the casual tone in Michael’s voice.

“He’s already in Hell,” Lucifer says. “Who cares if he dies? Besides, the other Winchester never died, and we did worse to him than just depriving him of touch. I think your pet’s safe.”

“‘M not anyone’s pet,” Adam says. He tries to sound fierce but it comes out muffled since he’s still pressing his face to Michael’s neck. “And I’m still not a Winchester. Never was, never will be.”

“Hmm,” Lucifer says, sounding skeptical. Adam lifts his head and frowns angrily, blinking spots out of his vision. He glares as best he can, but Lucifer simply chuckles and sticks his tongue out at him. 

“Child,” Adam accuses. 

“Compared to Michael, I sure as hell am.” Adam blinks and doesn’t say anything. How is he supposed to respond to that?

“Both of you, stop,” Michael says sternly. “In case either of you forgot, we’re trapped in Hell. Now’s not really the time to start bickering.”

“We literally have the rest of eternity together. When _will_ be the time to start bickering?” Adam asks wryly. 

“We’re not bickering,” Lucifer adds. “And even if we were, who are you to judge? You’re the one cuddling up with a human.”

“At least I’m not impersonating a statue to prevent myself from shivering,” Michael replies. “I’m warm, Lucifer.”

“Now who’s bickering?” Adam says, silently marvelling at the surreal situation he’s found himself in. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the mood in the Cage right now is… companionable. “How about we all shut up and just, I don’t know, sit here.”

“Yes, good idea,” Michael says. It’s the first positive thing he’s said to Adam in over two hundred years, and it fills him with that pleased, fuzzy feeling he associates with making his mother proud, which. No. Weird. 

“And we could be completely silent,” Lucifer says.

“Or I could sing?” Adam suggests. Lucifer smiles blandly. 

“Or we could be completely silent,” he says. Adam pouts and leans his head back against the Cage. It’s uncomfortable as shit but at least he can close his eyes and go back to sleep.

 

He wakes up with a huge crick in his neck and a truly astounding amount of crust holding his eyes shut. He scrubs at his face with one hand and yawns into the other, and is completely unsurprised to find himself cuddling an archangel in the deepest pit of Hell when he gets his eyes open. 

He’s used to being in the Cage, and isn’t that just the saddest thing he’s ever heard in his life?

“Before you ask, you were asleep for an hour,” Michael says, still sitting in between Adam’s legs. He’s shifted into a cross-legged position, which, unfortunately, has brought his tailbone right up against Adam’s dick. He doesn’t have morning wood, thank fuck, and he quickly sits up before his dick decides to get interested in the entirely non-sexual situation. Adam loves boobs, don’t get him wrong, but sometimes all it takes is pretty eyes and a nice body, both of which Michael is in possession of. 

Lucifer glares at him from his side of the Cage as if he can hear Adam’s thoughts, which might just be the case. 

_Flip me off if you can hear me_ , Adam thinks, and sags in relief when Lucifer doesn’t so much as twitch. Except for the slight trembling from holding in his shivers, he’s completely still.

“You’re one stubborn bastard, you know that?” Adam says, and Lucifer blinks in shock. 

“Adam,” Michael says in warning, but Adam ignores him and the outraged squawk he makes when Adam stands up, dislodging him from his seat. He reaches down to run a hand through Michael’s hair as he walks by and grins at the disgruntled grumble it gets him. 

Lucifer straight up hisses when Adam approaches, shooting to his feet and pulling himself up to his full height like a cornered cat. Adam remembers what happened the last time he pissed Lucifer off and he just barely stops himself from reaching up to touch his neck. 

“Lucifer,” he says, trying his best to sound authoritative. Judging from Lucifer’s sneer, he’s not succeeding. “I can help, dude.”

“I don’t want your help,” Lucifer spits.

“So you admit that you do need help,” Adam says triumphantly. Lucifer blinks. 

“What.”

“You said ‘want’, not ‘need’,” Adam points out. 

“Fuck off,” Lucifer says. He walks to the other side of the Cage and leans into the corner there, crossing his arms and glaring at nothing. 

“Adam,” Michael says sternly. “Do not antagonize him.”

“Why?” Adam asks. “What’s the worst he’s gonna do, torture me? Besides, why do you care? I’m just a human, after all.” His voice is undeniably bitter but Michael doesn’t comment on it. 

“Aw, is someone feeling a little inferior?” Lucifer coos mockingly. He grins, but his eyes remain hard. “Well, good.”

“Ouch,” Adam says, putting a hand to his heart. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a great big dick?”

Lucifer goes completely still and for a moment Adam tenses, thinking he’s finally pushed Lucifer over the line. But then he sees the shocked, wide-eyed look on the angel’s face. Lucifer looks… anguished. But that can’t be right, can it? What would he have to be upset about?

Still, Adam feels a bit guilty for putting that expression there. He walks slowly towards Lucifer, who doesn’t move at all except to swallow painfully. He looks like he’s about to start crying, which alarms Adam more than the thought of torture did. 

“Don’t,” Lucifer says, but he sways the slightest bit towards Adam. 

“Shut up,” Adam says with no heat. He reaches out and puts his hands on Lucifer’s shoulders, then looks into his face to gauge his reaction. Lucifer does nothing but swallow again, looking more vulnerable than Adam’s ever seen him. It gives him the courage to pull Lucifer’s head down to his shoulder and wrap his arms around him in a tight hug, an apology and comfort all rolled up into one. 

Lucifer practically melts into the embrace. His shivering grows more prominent, but as they stand there the shaking slows to a barely-there tremble. Adam’s arms are starting to ache from how tight he has them wrapped around Lucifer’s shoulders, but he doesn’t dare release his hold just yet. 

“Do you want to tell me why what I said upset you?” he asks quietly, but sound travels pretty well in the Cage and he’s sure Michael hears.

Lucifer shakes his head the tiniest bit and clenches his fists into the back of Adam’s jacket. 

“It might make you feel better if you talk about it,” Adam presses. He’s not actually sure that advice works, but it’s what everyone in these situations seem to say, so it’s what he goes with. He’s surprised when Lucifer actually does tell him. It’s whispered into the place where his neck meets his shoulder, but Adam has no trouble making it out. Neither, apparently, does Michael. He’s on his feet with his hands clenched into fists before Adam can even figure out who Gabriel is.

“ _What_ ,” Michael says, his voice cold and trembling with anger. Lucifer tenses in Adam’s arms and Adam reflexively tightens his grip, but reluctantly lets him go when Lucifer straightens. 

“I-” He falters, pain flickering plainly across his features for a second. Michael either doesn’t see it or doesn’t care; fury still crackles in his eyes. Lucifer straightens and looks Michael in the eye. “I killed Gabriel.”

Adam doesn’t even see them move. Michael has Lucifer pinned to the Cage wall before he can so much as blink. He doesn’t know much about Christianity despite being raised one, but any idiot would recognize the name of an angel as important as Gabriel. An archangel, if Adam remembers correctly. 

… oh. Shit. 

“You absolute _filth_ ,” Michael snarls. Lucifer flinches, his eyes wide, but he doesn’t make a move to defend himself. It makes Adam a little more scared than it should. “Gabriel was a Pagan traitor but he was still our brother, and you killed him!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Lucifer stammers. 

“Sorry doesn’t bring him back,” Michael hisses. Adam can’t stay out of this any longer.

“Neither does this,” he says. “Michael, let him go.”

Michael turns to Adam with a snarl, but the grief in his eyes makes the expression less intimidating than he was going for. 

“Stay out of this, _Winchester_ ,” he says, sneering. “You know nothing of brotherly loyalty or love.”

That stings, because yes he fucking does. He knows just how far brothers will go for each other; the only problem is that he’s only ever been on the side of that equation that ended up losing something. He barks a short, bitter laugh. 

“Of course I do,” he says. “I know that Sam and Dean would do anything for each other, even if that meant leaving me here to rot with you. I know they love each other more than they could ever love me.”

That brings Michael up short. Even Lucifer looks at him with something akin to pity in his eyes. 

“I know that Lucifer regrets killing Gabriel and that you regret not being there for him,” he continues. He’s grasping at straws at this point, but they must be the right ones because neither angel speaks up to correct him. “And most of all, I know that neither of those things are going to bring him back. Your brother is dead and there’s nothing you can do about it, so for fuck’s sake, Michael, .”

Surprisingly, Michael does. Lucifer lands on his feet but his legs buckle and he immediately falls onto his ass. He doesn’t so much as wince. Michael backs off, still fuming but a little less blinded by rage than he was a moment ago. Adam thanks whoever the hell’s still listening that he didn’t overstep a boundary and get himself a one-way ticket to torture.

“Would he have wanted you to fight like this?” Adam asks, genuinely curious. He hasn’t met many angels in his life but he can tell that there’s something different about this Gabriel.

“No,” Michael snaps. “He left Heaven in the first place because Lucifer had been banished to the Cage.” Lucifer flinches again but doesn’t lift his gaze from his hands, splayed in front of him on the bars that make up the floor. He’s not bothering to hide his shivering anymore.

Pity fills Adam and he sighs as he makes his way over to Lucifer. He sits down heavily next to him and pulls at him until the angel gives up and rests his head on Adam’s shoulder. Adam winds an arm around his waist to keep him still. 

“He never chose one side or another,” Lucifer says. “At least, not until he met the Winchesters. Then he chose humanity, of all things.” He scoffs. 

“He stood up to you,” Adam guesses. 

“I gave him the choice to join me, or to walk away. He walked to his own death, all for nothing.”

“I don’t know,” Adam says thoughtfully. “It sounds like he knew more than you two did.”

Michael frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the Apocalypse was a fight between Heaven and Hell, right, with you two as the champions chosen to fight to the death? Earth was always just collateral. The angels never cared what happened to us humans, and the demons sure as fuck didn’t, either, but this Gabriel guy…. He chose to die for humanity. He saw us as living, thinking, feeling beings, which is more than I can say for either of you.”

Michael and Lucifer are silent.

“Besides,” Adam says, “he died for something he truly believed in. There’s no death more honorable than that, right?”

None of this will erase the fact that Lucifer killed their brother, but at least it distracted them. 

“You are very wise,” Michael says. “For a human.”

“Teenage brat,” Lucifer mutters. Adam grins and pokes him in the side, laughing when it makes him jerk. He reaches out to Michael with his free hand, beckoning him over. Michael purses his lips but eventually he walks over and settles himself stiffly at Adam’s side. 

“Don’t be like that,” Adam says, throwing his arm over Michael’s shoulders. It takes him a moment, but he relaxes against Adam’s side with a sigh. It doesn’t escape Adam’s notice that both angels are taking care not to touch each other, but he ignores it in favor of scooting back until they’re leaning against the wall. “Come on, guys, we’re trapped in Hell! Literally nothing matters anymore, so why spend eternity being pissed off? We can do whatever we want now.”

“That’s the most positive approach to Hell I’ve ever heard,” Michael says. 

“And the saddest and most nihilistic,” Lucifer adds. 

“Yup,” Adam says cheerfully. “So now that we have time, who wants to teach me your weird angel language?”

 

Adam opens his eyes and immediately closes them against the blinding glare of some bright light. He doesn’t know where he is, which, after hundreds of years of consistency, is terrifying. He does know that he’s not in the Cage anymore, but that, too, isn’t comforting at all. He idly wonders how messed up it makes him that he wishes he was back in Hell. 

The ground is soft and springy and wet underneath him. He rolls onto his hands and knees and flexes his fingers in the dirt. It crumbles easily in his hand. His heartbeat speeds up. He’s out. He’s out he’s out he’s out he’s out-

“I’m out,” he says. His voice is croaky and hoarse from disuse, and it only makes him laugh. He opens his eyes wide and welcomes the burning of too-bright light, relishes the feeling of dirt underneath his fingernails as he scratches lines into the ground. He sits back on his heels and brings one hand to his eyes as he looks around. 

He’s in a cemetery, judging by the tombstones. The same cemetery where Sam had pulled him into the Pit all those years ago. He should probably feel at least a little angry at the thought, but hundreds of years have passed, and his priorities have shifted. And speaking of priorities….

He spots two human-sized lumps not too far away and recognizes them instantly as Michael and Lucifer. They’re not moving. Heart racing from fear rather than excitement now, he pulls himself to his feet and stumbles over to them. Their eyes are closed and they’re _breathing_. More than four hundred years he spent in the Cage with them, and not once has he seen them breathe, except when they needed to speak. 

“Fuck,” he says. 

“They’re fine,” a voice says from behind him, and Adam stiffens in surprise. He hadn’t seen anyone else in the cemetery with them. He stumbles to his feet and puts himself between the angels and this unknown person, though he doesn’t know what use that will be. He feels like he was just hit by a semi and then tossed into a meat grinder, and in this condition he couldn’t even fight off a human, never mind whatever supernatural creature this thing is. 

It looks human, though most of the creepy-crawlies do, at first. It’s dressed pretty well, all things considered, in a nice pair of jeans and a button down under a black blazer. It’s got a short, scruffy beard and is a good half a foot shorter than Adam, but the casual confidence it’s holding itself with destroys any hope he may have had of beating this thing in a fight. Not that he had much hope to begin with.

“What did you do to them? Who are you? How did you get us out of the Cage?” Adam asks, and the thing raises its hands to slow down the torrent of questions.

“Whoa, calm down,” it says. “Not even _I_ can answer that many questions at once.”

Trepidation hits Adam all at once and he’s instantly wary. “Who are you?” he asks again. 

The stranger rocks back on its heels. “I’m God,” it says with a little grin. 

Adam punches him in the face. 

Surprisingly, he goes down hard, back first onto the ground with a grunt. Adam stands over him, fuming in a way he hasn’t in over four hundred years. 

“I’d kill you if I could,” he says lowly. It’s not an idle thread; all that time with Michael and Lucifer has changed him.

“I know,” God says. He grimaces and pulls himself to his feet, groaning softly the whole time. It makes him look human, which only makes Adam angrier. 

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” he snaps. He’s so furious he can barely speak. “Fucking four hundred years, dude!”

“Four hundred and fifty-nine,” God says. “And on earth it’s only been a little less than four years, so.”

“Only,” Adam repeats faintly, laughing faintly. His chuckles turn into full-blown laughter, and he doubles over with tears in his eyes that don’t stop falling even after his laughter turns to sobbing. He sinks to his knees and digs his fingers into the ground. The dirt under his nails doesn’t feel so good, this time.

God sighs and sinks into a crouch. He reaches out and puts a hand on the back of Adam’s neck, kneading gently, and all of a sudden he’s the most comforting person Adam’s ever met. 

“I fucking hate you,” Adam whispers, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch. God sighs again. 

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

They sit there for hours, until the sun sets and the wet dirt freezes on Adam’s hands and knees. He spares a brief thought for Michael and Lucifer, but they seem fine when he looks over at them. Eventually, God pulls away. Adam’s body is stiff and painful when he does the same. He sniffs and wipes at the frozen tear tracks on his face. Everything hurts. 

“I can take away the pain if you want,” God offers, but Adam shoots him such a venomous glare that he immediately holds his hands up in surrender. 

“Why did you take us out of the Cage?” Adam asks, his voice a rough whisper. He knows intimately what kind of monster lurks in a graveyard at night, but he’s not afraid, not when faced with such an opportunity for answers. 

“You were never supposed to be in there in the first place,” God says with a shrug, as if the Apocalypse hadn’t ruined Adam’s entire life. “They got out on good behavior.” He looks at Adam seriously. “I need you to know something. I’ve only ever told this to Gabriel, and he doesn’t even remember it.”

Adam frowns in confusion, then dismisses it with a shake of his head. “Why should I do anything for you?”

“You shouldn’t,” God says. “People think you were made to serve me, but honestly? You were nothing more than proof for something I was trying to prove to someone a long time ago.”

“Wonderful,” Adam mutters. 

“Adam,” God says. His voice feels heavy all of a sudden, as if carrying the weight of the entire universe behind it. Adam finds himself paying attention without even deciding to. “Adam, I never wanted the Apocalypse. Never.”

Frustrated tears well in Adam’s eyes. “Then why the hell didn’t you do anything to stop it?” he asks. 

God looks sad. “I’m tired, Adam. I’m so fucking tired.”

“You don’t have that right,” Adam whispers. “Not after what you did to us.” He thinks of Sam and Dean, manipulated their whole lives into being nothing more than puppets for two angels to control. He thinks of Michael and Lucifer, who just wanted to be good sons to a father who didn’t care enough about them to guide them. He thinks of Gabriel, who left his family so he didn’t have to watch it be torn apart, only to die at the hands of his own brother. 

“I’m sorry,” God whispers. He sounds broken.

“I don’t care,” Adam replies coldly. “All that talk about destiny and inescapable fate? Bullshit. You brought this down on yourself.”

“Well, I’m trying to fix it,” God snaps. “You think I don’t know this is my fault?” He points to Michael and Lucifer. “I had to lock my own sons in Hell. I had to watch Lucifer kill Gabriel. I had to watch the world I built, the humans I love, all of it fall to shit, and there was nothing I could do about it!”

Adam shuts his eyes. He’s so, so tired, both physically and mentally, and especially emotionally. “I can’t deal with this right now,” he says. His voice cracks. “Please, just go.”

God is silent for a moment. Adam doesn’t look at him, and eventually he hears the crunch of dirt as he stands. There aren’t any footsteps, but he’s gone when Adam opens his eyes. He lets out a shuddering breath.

Michael and Lucifer don’t stir when Adam crawls over to them. They feel warmer than they ever did in the Cage, so Adam doesn’t worry about them freezing to death. His stomach cramps unpleasantly every time he moves and his mouth feels like cotton, but he’s too tired to think about food or water right now. He doesn’t even care that the three of them are essentially defenseless and out in the open. 

There’s a space between the angels that’s just big enough for Adam to fit. He drops into it and arranges them so they each have an arm draped around his waist and his head is pillowed on Michael’s arm. He falls asleep with the soft sound of the wind blowing gently through the gravestones. It seems to be whispering, _Be strong_.

“I will,” he says, and sleeps.


	2. Michael

Michael has never been more disconcerted than he is when he wakes up for the first time in his immeasurably long life. At first he doesn't know what's happening; his eyes are closed when his consciousness returns, but the thing is, he doesn't remember closing them. In fact, he can't remember what happened at all for the past. . . how long? He doesn't even know when he is.

There's a familiar body pressed up against hm, slightly larger than his own, and that keeps him from panicking. He opens his eyes but at first all he can see is darkness. Then he realizes that he's looking at Adam's hair; the human has his head resting on Michael's arm and they must have shifted in their sleep so that Michael's face was buried in his hair.

Sleep. What a ridiculous concept. Angels don't need sleep, not like humans do. Michael briefly wonders if he maybe Adam convinced him to sleep with him, but he quickly dismisses that idea. No matter how long they've been in the Cage together and no matter how intimate they got (beyond intimate; Michael and Lucifer bared parts of themselves they barely even knew existed) there's no way Michael would have agreed to something so _human._

Careful not to jolt Adam too much, Michael lifts his head and looks around. He freezes, eyes wide and breath hitching in his lungs. _Since when do I need to breathe?_ some little voice in the back of his head asks him, but he ignores it completely in favor of the realization that he's _no longer in the Cage._

He doesn't care as much about where he is as he does that this place isn't in Hell. For the first time in hundreds of years, he can feel Heaven again, feel the warmth and the light and the power that he took for granted for most of his life. It's faint, nearly nonexistent, but it's there. His heart speeds up, another novel quirk of his human vessel that he's bemused by. From what he knows about humans, he figures it's from excitement, which he knows to be anticipation with the extra additive of hyperactivity on the side.

He should have figured it out sooner; now that he's paying attention, he's aware of the soft ground underneath him, the chill of his damp clothes, the sounds of crickets and cicadas and a soft breeze whistling its way through gravestones. The moon is high in the sky, and nearly full. Michael looks up at it and remembers its creation. He'd been confused then, wondering why a moon was necessary, but as of now it's the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on.

Adam doesn't wake when Michael slowly stands up, easing his head onto Lucifer's arm. Michael stares down at them. In the Cage, they'd spent more time touching than not, once they got over that initial awkwardness and stubbornness, but he'd usually been participating in the touching, and so rarely had an opportunity to view it.

He has to admit, it's… maybe aesthetically pleasing is the phrase he's looking for. Lucifer's arm draped over Adam's waist, Adam's leg bent so that his calf is between Lucifer's legs. It reminds Michael of two puzzle pieces fitting together. Maybe not two puzzle pieces that were supposed to go together, but two pieces who were shoved into place nonetheless.

A human would probably be stiff after so long spent in one position on the cold ground, but Michael's not exactly human. He can feel his muscles contracting and moving underneath his skin as he stands and stretches (a habit he picked up from Adam, who would take a nap every few decades just to pass the time). He's aware of his body in a way he's never been before. It used to be just another vessel; now, it's _him_. He can feel his heart beating, his lungs expanding when he breathes, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks when he blinks. It's enchanting.

The moon is nearly at the horizon, and on the other side of the sky, the clouds are turning a deep pink-orange. It's almost sunrise. If they are where he thinks they are, it'll get much warmer once the sun is fully risen. He can't wait; he's never going to take warmth for granted again.

Adam is shivering slightly on the ground, which strikes Michael as ironic. Four hundred years of Adam's inherent human warmth keeping them from freezing, and now the human's cold because of morning dew. If Lucifer were awake, he'd probably mention something about the fragility of humans and then push Adam into Michael to keep him warm. Or something. Michael can't say for sure that he knows exactly what Lucifer would do.

"Billions of years spent together," Michael says softly. "Billions of years of incomprehensible love, all undermined by a few thousand years of disagreement." He sighs and crouches next to Lucifer. His body itches to reach out and run a hand through Lucifer's hair, but it's too short. He settles for gently stroking Lucifer's cheek with the back of his hand, smiling when Lucifer tilts his head into the contact. There's no way he would have allowed this if he were awake.

Michael stands and looks around. The sky is a little lighter than it was a few minutes ago; the sun's going to be up soon, which means that the cemetery may not be empty of people for much longer. He needs to figure out what's going on, but in order to do that, he needs to wake up the other two so they can leave.

He's not really sure how to do that, so he ends up kneeling over Adam until he wakes. The human takes one look at the angel towering above him and jerks back with a strangled gasp.

"Christ, don't do that," he hisses, holding one hand to his chest. "You scared the shit out of me."

One thing Michael noticed, back when they were in the Cage, is that Adam is very cranky after waking up. He's not sure why.

"Your pants are still clean," Michael points out. "And we're out of the Cage."

Adam looks at him strangely. "I thought that was a dream," he murmurs, and then louder, he says, "You don't seem excited about being free."

"I don't know how I feel," he says. "Emotions are strange." This answer seems to satisfy Adam.

"Whatever," he says. "Let's grab Lucifer and get out of here before something decides to come eat us."

"How?" Michael asks.

"Walk until we find a road," Adam says, pulling himself to his feet and squinting into the sunrise. "Maybe hitchhike, if we can find someone who'll take us and doesn't look like a serial killer."

"That's not what I meant," Michael says. "How do we wake Lucifer?"

Adam gives him a blank look. Michael gazes back steadily.

"Angels," Adam says, shaking his head. "You're all so weird. Look, why don't you try and find a way out of this cemetery while I wake up Lucifer, and then we'll head out."

"Okay," Michael says, and starts walking. He vaguely remembers the layout of the cemetery from the last time he was here; before facing down Lucifer-in-Sam's-body, he'd taken a few moments to memorize the exact placement of every single stone, weed, gravestone, and dip in the ground. It doesn't take long for him to find the exit. When he turns back to look at Adam and Lucifer, they're nothing more than blurry figures in the distance, concealed just a bit by an anemic tree that's barely holding on to life.

By the time he returns, Lucifer is awake and irritated. Not at any one specific thing, but just in general, the way that Adam is whenever he wakes up. Then again, irritated is Lucifer's default emotion.

"Is this an illusion?" Lucifer demands once Michael's close enough.

"No," Michael says. "We're out."

"Yeah, your father told me that when he came by here last night," Adam adds. "God's an asshole, by the way."

Michael and Lucifer stare at him. He gazes back, nonplussed. Back when they first got to the Cage, Adam was scared of them. The cuddling probably didn't help Michael and Lucifer keep their intimidating image.

"So this is an illusion, right?" Lucifer says, turning to Michael. "There's no way we're out."

"We are," Michael says again. "Who would be behind this, if it was an illusion?"

"I don't know, but those Winchesters know some powerful people," Lucifer says. "And they probably have a grudge against us."

Adam snorts. "'Probably'," he repeats. "They definitely have a grudge against you."

Neither Lucifer nor Michael miss that Adam excluded himself from that statement. It takes Adam a moment to realize that they noticed, and once he does he purses his lips and turns away from them.

"You found the exit?" he asks.

"There's a road about half a mile that way," Michael says, pointing to where he'd found the exit. "I didn't see any cars."

"Well, the first part of the plan was walking until we can hitch a ride," Adam reminds them. "So let's start walking."

Neither Michael nor Lucifer follows him when he sets off. They look at each other with stony faces and prepare to leave.

"The Apocalypse is written," Michael says. "It's only been postponed for now."

"We'll see each other again," Lucifer agrees. "There will be more vessels, and another battlefield."

With those as their parting words, they fly off in different directions. Or at least, they attempt to. Michael's eyes widen when he remains in place, while Lucifer's narrow. He can spread his wings but he can't fly; it feels like something's holding his wings in place whenever he tries.

"Lucifer," Michael says quietly.

"Shut up," Lucifer hisses. He growls in frustration and clenches his hands into fists. A moment later, he lifts his head and looks calculatingly at Adam. Michael blinks, and Lucifer's gone, standing all of a sudden behind the human. When Michael tries to fly over to them, he's surprised to find that he can. He falls into step with Lucifer and they exchange angry, embarrassed glances, a mutual agreement to keep this to themselves.

Of course, that agreement is broken almost immediately when Adam says, "Big Guy Upstairs not let you leave, huh?" He looks back at them and snorts at their shocked faces. "Oh, please. After four hundred years, I know you well enough to know that you'd try to leave as soon as you could. There's no way you'd stay with me unless you had to."

"I will rip out your throat again," Lucifer warns.

"No, you won't," Adam says confidently. "You guys don't know enough about life as humans to survive on your own."

"We're not human," Michael says.

"You might as well be," is Adam's disconcerting reply.

 

The sun is high in the sky and already past its zenith by the time someone decides to stop and pick them up. They've been walking along the road for most of the day without rest, and they're all struggling. Adam's clearly exhausted, shuffling along with his head bowed and his chest heaving, but Lucifer and Michael aren't much better. It seems that Adam was correct when he said that they might as well be human now; they have their power, but it's at a much lower level than they're used to.

A few cars have gone by already, and Michael glared at each of them as they drove on without stopping. He's so used to being ignored by the drivers that he's unprepared for the truck that actually stops to pick them up. They all hear it coming from behind them; Lucifer doesn't look up, but Michael watches as Adam turns and sticks out a thumb despite his lack of hope that they'll actually get a ride.

To everyone's surprise, the truck pulls up next to them and stops. It's an old black thing that Michael's human subconscious calls a pickup truck, a little dusty and beat up but also clearly loved. The passenger window rolls down to reveal an older woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and a pair of dark black sunglasses over her eyes.

"You boys headin' somewhere in particular?" she asks.

"No," Adam says gratefully. "We're just heading to the nearest town." The woman gives him a strange look, which makes Adam frown. "Is that a problem?"

"Is 'town' the only thing you know how to say in English?" she asks. Lucifer slaps a palm to his forehead and groans.

"You're talking in Enochian," he says. In English. Adam flushes.

"Oh," he says. This time he speaks in English, but he appears to be choosing his words carefully, as if he's having trouble remembering them. "Please take us to the nearest town."

"Sure thing. Hop in, hun," the woman says. Adam opens the back door of the truck and then looks meaningfully at Michael. It takes him a while to understand that he's meant to enter first. Lucifer gets in last and slams the door shut a bit harder than strictly necessary, but the woman doesn't say anything.

"Thank you for this," Adam says. "We've been walking for hours now."

"Hard to catch a ride 'round these parts," is the sympathetic answer. "Name's Imogene. No one calls me that but my husband, though. Genie's fine."

"It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am. I'm Adam, and this is Michael and Luc- um, Luke," Adam says. Michael notices that his English sounds more natural now, coming back with an ease that outs it as his first language despite the hundred or so years he spent speaking only in Enochian. Genie must notice it, too.

"Your accent's very American," she says. "Where'd you learn to speak English?"

"I was actually born in America," Adam says. "I've just been abroad for the past few years and only spoke the native language."

"Sure is the strangest language I've ever heard. Where's it from?"

Adam shoots Michael a wide-eyed look and blurts out, "Europe." Lucifer coughs into his fist, and Michael realizes a moment later that he's laughing. He sighs heavily out of his nose and rests his head against the window. It vibrates unpleasantly and jolts painfully every time they go over a pothole, but it helps block out Adam's conversation. If it's just going to be full of human nuances that only Michael doesn't understand, he'd rather spend his time marking their progress, anyway.

Closing his eyes disorients him, especially with the uneven motions of the car, so he keeps them open and on the landscape as they fly down the road. Imogene—Genie—drives almost recklessly, often times veering into the left lane or taking her eyes off the road to look at Adam in the rearview mirror as they talk, and at one point even letting go of the wheel completely in order to rummage around in the bag sitting in the passenger's seat.

Adam, for his part, seems to be regretting his decision to sit in between Michael and Lucifer, both of whom are able to brace themselves against the sides of the car every time it jolts. The middle seat doesn't even have a seat belt, not that anyone who has one is even using it. In the absence of a window or a handle to grab, Adam's bracing one hand against the back of the passenger seat and griping Michael's leg tightly with the other. It's unpleasant, so Michael pries his fingers loose and simply holds his hand instead. In the reflection in his window, he sees both Adam and Lucifer look at him curiously. Lucifer looks away as soon as their eyes meet in the glass, and Michael goes back to watching scraggly trees pass by.

They pass right through Stull, a tiny, insignificant town, and head into another that's marginally less tiny but still just as insignificant. Adam requests to be let out in front of a small, locally-owned diner and Genie bids them good luck as they pile out of her car. She also fishes something out of her bag that she tries to give to Adam, but he refuses vehemently. Michael has to wait for both Lucifer and Adam to exit before he can, since his door is facing out towards traffic, and while both of their backs are turned Genie shoves the something into his hand and winks at him.

"Take care a your boys, ya hear?" she says before unceremoniously kicking him out and peeling away as soon as the door is closed. Michael opens his hand and wrinkles his nose at the two crumpled bills he finds there. He shoves his hand towards Adam.

"Here," he says. "Genie gave these to me but I have no use for them."

"What is it?" Adam asks, even as he opens his hand underneath Michael's.

"American currency," Michael says, distaste coloring his tone. Lucifer peers over Adam's shoulder at the bills.

"She only gave us forty bucks?" he says. Adam elbows him in the ribs, despite knowing that Lucifer won't even flinch.

"That's a lot considering we're just some hitchhikers she picked up," Adam says. "You know, most Americans won't even give a dollar to a homeless person they find on the streets. This is extremely generous."

"It's sad that ignoring the suffering of your own kind is the norm on earth," Michael says. Adam rolls his eyes.

"Come on," he sighs, turning towards the diner. "I'm starving. The lunch rush should be over by now."

"I'd be surprised if this place had more than three separate parties, much less a lunch rush," Lucifer says, holding the door open for Adam and Michael. "Would it kill this town to get a McDonald's?"

"You know, it actually might," Adam replies, and Lucifer snorts. The sign hanging near the door tells them to seat themselves, so they choose a booth close to the back. Michael and Lucifer both sit in the side facing the door, neither trusting the other to keep watch. Adam doesn't notice, too busy looking over the menu.

"Do you guys need to eat, now that you're basically human?" he asks without looking up at them. Michael and Lucifer look at each other. Lucifer shrugs.

"I don't think so," he says, sounding unsure.

"How would we know if we do?" Michael asks. Adam gives him the same look from the cemetery, when Michael was unsure of how to wake Lucifer up. Michael's starting to recognize it as Adam's _why-are-you-so-ignorant-of-everyday-human-things_ look.

"Well, your stomach would hurt," Adam says. "Or you might feel lightheaded or more irritable than normal."

"Funny, I feel those things every time I look at your face," Lucifer says innocently. Adam throws a spoon at him, and Lucifer sticks out his tongue, forked like a snake's. Michael rubs at his temples and wonders if he can go back to the Cage.

Luckily, the waitress chooses that moment to come over. Michael kicks Lucifer under the table and the snake tongue disappears before the girl can see it.

"Welcome to Ma's," she says brightly as she pours them three glasses of water. "What can I getcha?"

"Peach iced tea and a double cheeseburger with fries for me," Adam says, then looks at Michael and Lucifer expectantly. Lucifer smiles charmingly at the waitress, whose smile becomes a little strained.

"I'll have a pulled pork sandwich and a coffee, black," Lucifer says. The waitress jots that down on a little notepad, then turns to Michael.

"Anything for you, sir?" she asks.

"Just fries and a chocolate shake," he says. The girl smiles brightly at them and promises to be back soon with the food. Adam turns immediately to Michael with an unreadable look on his face.

"Fries and a chocolate shake?" he says coldly. Michael shrugs.

"It was the first thing I thought of," he says. Lucifer looks in between them.

"I'm missing something," he says.

"Yes, you are," Adam agrees, and turns to look out the window. Lucifer raises an eyebrow at Michael.

"It's something Adam used to eat when he was a child," Michael explains, toying idly with the straw in his glass. "When he was my vessel, I picked up on it."

"Any other habits of mine you're planning on adopting?" Adam asks venomously. Michael doesn't dignify that with a response, and instead takes a sip of his water. It feels surprisingly pleasant against his throat, which he didn't realize was parched until now.

The three of them sit in awkward silence after that. Still, despite the chilly atmosphere, Lucifer's leg is pressed against Lucifer's from the knee down, and both of them have tangled their other feet with Adam's under the table. After centuries of being so physically intimate with each other in the Cage, it seems unthinkable that they'd not touch, even in the middle of an argument.

By the time the waitress returns, Adam's finished all of his water and has moved on to Lucifer's. If she notices, she doesn't say anything, but she does take the glasses and bring them back filled nearly to the brim with more water. Then she disappears into the kitchen, leaving them alone with the only other occupants of the diner, an elderly couple who keep shooting judgemental glances at them.

"Eat fast," Adam says. "We need to get a move on."

He drains half his iced tea with a few long pulls through his straw, then sets to work on his burger. Lucifer follows his lead and digs into his sandwich, and Michael gingerly eats a fry and watches them in fascinated disgust. That's quickly forgotten once he actually tastes the fry, though, and then all his attention is on savoring the strangely pleasing flavor of oil-soaked potatoes. He does dip one in the chocolate shake just to see how it tastes, but he quickly decides that he likes them better by themselves.

He's finished before Lucifer and Adam are, so he sips at his milkshake and tries to figure out how best to steal some of their fries. He startles when Adam uses a knife to cut a small piece of his burger off and hands it to him.

"Here, try this," he says. Michael is surprised enough that he does so without thought. The burger was an enormous mess of meat, sauce, and vegetables, but luckily Michael's piece is relatively small and neat. He puts the whole thing into his mouth and only gets a little sauce on his lip, which he licks off with the tip of his tongue as soon as he swallows.

"It's really good," Michael says, sounding surprised even to his own ears.

"You think that's good, just wait til you try this," Lucifer says, and uses his fork to stab a piece of pulled pork, which he then shoves unceremoniously into Michael's mouth. It's actually delicious.

"I like the burger better," Michael says, just to be annoying. He grins when Lucifer scowls.

"Alright, that's enough," Adam says. "Lucifer, finish your food. Michael, here, drink this. I don't want the rest."

Michael blinks down at the half-drunk glass of iced tea in his hands, then takes a sip. It's a little too syrupy for his tastes, but it's pretty good otherwise. He's never tasted peach before. He's eaten food, of course; when hiding among the humans sometimes it's necessary to eat and bathe and do as the humans do in order to keep his cover. Still, the taste of a peach's individual molecules can't compare at all, even to a from-concentrate syrup version of the real thing.

Once they finish eating, Adam goes up to the counter to pay their bill. He comes back a few moments later with a newspaper clutched in his hands, and he doesn't even look at them as he slides back into his seat.

"Adam?" Michael says, noticing the far-away look on the human's face.

"It's 2014," Adam says quietly. "It's been almost exactly four years since we fell into the Cage." Lucifer and Michael exchange looks. Four years is literally nothing to them. Michael once spent four years grooming his wings. But for a human, four years is a whole fraction of their lives.

"At least you haven't aged," Michael says. "Your lifespan won't be affected by this."

Adam sneers. "Oh, that makes me feel so much better, Mikey, thanks," he says. Michael is taken aback, both at the angry tone and the nickname that's only ever used when Adam's genuinely upset with him. He looks to Lucifer, who's watching Adam with a carefully blank look on his face.

Michael's not going to get any help there, so he turns back to Adam and says, "I don't see what the problem is."

"Of course you don't," Adam scoffs. His eyes look glassy and unnaturally bright all of a sudden. "You're an _angel_. You have no concept of time." He unclenches his fists and gingerly smooths out the rumpled paper on the tabletop. His voice goes soft. "God, I don't even know which iPhone is the most recent."

Michael doesn't know what cell phones have to do with anything. He contemplates saying as much, but decides that it's better if he doesn't, since in this mood Adam's likely to figuratively explode at the slightest provocation. Instead, he shoves one hand into the pocket of his coat and uses the other to take another sip of his tea.

Lucifer frowns lightly at him, then at Adam. "Jeez, you two are such drama queens," he says. Adam and Michael glare at him, but he only smiles. "I mean it. Look at you two! Adam's throwing himself a one-man pity party because he's been in the holy hot box for four years, and Michael's over here acting like a teenage girl crying on her first period because her boyfriend hurt her feelings. Can you get any more pathetic?"

He slams his hands on the table and stands up. It doesn't work out too well, seeing as they're in a booth, but he doesn't let that deter him.

"You know what I say we do?" he says, looking intently at each of them in turn. "I say we man the fuck up and figure out what the hell we're supposed to do now. We're lost in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere with literally twelve dollars and a shit ton of daddy issues to our names. We have more important things to worry about than your insignificant little problems."

Adam sniffs and rubs at his eyes angrily. "You fucking bastard," he growls. "You're right. God. I hate you." Lucifer winks at him. "Ugh. Come on, let's go find a payphone or something."

"Who are we going to call?" Michael asks, following Adam out. His neck prickles and he just knows Lucifer is staring at him, trying to make him uncomfortable, but he doesn't give his brother the satisfaction of turning around.

"Sam and Dean," Adam says. "They're the only ones who I can think of to call in a situation like this."

Lucifer moves almost too fast for Michael to react. He darts towards Adam, and a lifetime spent honing battle instincts has Michael grabbing the collar of his shirt and one of his arms as as he brushes by. Before anyone knows what's happening, Michael has Lucifer pinned on the sidewalk outside the diner, one of his arms twisted behind his back so that he hisses in pain.

"What are you doing?" Lucifer spits.

"What are _you_ doing?" Michael counters.

"What are _both_ of you doing?" Adam demands. "You know, part of blending in is not drawing attention to ourselves. This definitely draws attention."

"Whose attention? This town's entire population was back in that diner," Lucifer says. He tries to get up but falls back down with a yelp when Michael's grip only tightens. "Ow, fuck, enough!"

"Michael, let him up." Adam sounds exasperated. He rubs at his temples and looks at Michael with exhausted, red-rimmed eyes. Michael lets Lucifer up.

"So rude," Lucifer says, straightening his shirt and glaring at Michael out of the corner of his eye. There's an undercurrent of mockery to his words, and Michael sighs, not even surprised that Lucifer can't take anything seriously. "I was just going to tell Adam that calling the Winchesters is a bad idea."

"Why?" Adam asks, leading them down the sidewalk. There's a bank right next to the diner, and on the other side of the bank is a tiny movie theater. In between wondering whether everything a town needs is situated on this street and slapping Lucifer's hand away from his hair, Michael notices a payphone on the wall outside the theater.

"Because I believe you have a right to know my opinions. They're usually right, after all," Lucifer says. Adam sighs.

"I meant why is it a bad idea to call the Winchesters, Lucifer," he says.

"Oh."

"There are many reasons why that's a bad idea," Michael says. "They change their phone numbers religiously, for one thing. For another, phone calls can be listened to and tracked, and if we want to 'blend in' we shouldn't relay sensitive information over phone."

"Um, is everyone forgetting the fact that they tossed us into Hell and left us there for four years?" Lucifer says. "I can understand them leaving me and Michael down there, but you're their brother. What makes you think they're going to help you now if they didn't before?"

There is a sadistic gleam in his eyes that betrays how much he enjoys this. Adam definitely notices, but he doesn't say anything for a long while. Eventually, he steps away from the phone.

"Half brother," he says.

 

They walk again. This time they are better prepared, though. With the money they had left, they stopped at a tiny convenience store and managed to buy three bottles of Gatorade, a box of granola bars, and a pack of beef jerky, which Adam claims is good food for hikers. Of course, seeing as Lucifer and Michael don't need to eat (they think), all the food is for Adam. He still makes them help him carry it, and Michael spends most of the rest of the day making sure Lucifer doesn't eat all the food out of spite.

By the time the sun goes down, they've walked what Michael estimates to be ten miles and they're no closer to hitching a ride than they were before. Adam doesn't admit defeat until it gets so dark that they can't see, at which point he sits down on a rock and slowly sips at one of the Gatorade bottles.

"The likelihood of us being picked up by a serial killer just increased by, like, eight percent," Lucifer says.

"Only eight?" Michael questions. Lucifer shrugs.

"I was going to say eighty but it's not like anyone's even picking us up, so."

Adam sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "Any suggestions?" he asks.

"Wow, you're actually letting us help with the decisions now?" Lucifer says with fake cheer. Adam flips him off. Michael ignores their bickering and looks at the road. He can barely see it; it's only a smudge on the ground, slightly darker than what surrounds it. Way, way off in the distance, he sees a pair of headlights.

He looks at Lucifer and Adam. They're full on arguing now, about something stupid that probably doesn't even matter, and normally he'd break them apart, but. Well. Normally they're locked in a Cage in Hell, and that kind of proximity doesn't allow for anything less than a complete lack of animosity. It's easy to yell at a dark blur in the middle of Kansas at night. It might help them release their frustration.

The headlights are getting closer now, and Michael can make out the shape of a car. Not a truck like Genie's, but a large van. It slows when Michael flags it down, sticking out his thumb like Adam did. He walks to the driver's side and finds himself looking at a middle-aged couple, married judging by their clasped hands. They have kind, open faces and trusting eyes.

"You need a ride somewhere?" the driver asks, and Michael gives them a tight smile.

"Yes," he says. "My… friends and I have been walking for a while and we don't really want to spend the night out in the open."

"Poor dears," the woman in the passenger seat sighs. "Well, we're planning on driving a few more hours and finding a motel somewhere. I don't know where you've been or where you're going, but you're welcome to join us."

"Thank you," Michael says, relieved. He looks over his shoulder. In the light from the car, he can see Adam and Lucifer watching him with wide eyes. He beckons them over, then opens the backdoor of the car and climbs in. The van isn't the most spacious, but it has three rows of plush seats, and it's not like they have any other options lined up. Michael knows that's the only reason Lucifer doesn't complain. Well, that and the warning glare Adam shoots him as they pile in.

Michael ends up sitting in the middle of the very back row, this time, with Adam on one side and Lucifer on the other. They both immediately turn to gaze out the window as the car starts to move, leaving Michael to make small talk with the couple in the front seat. He tries to remember what Adam said when Genie picked them up.

"We really appreciate this," he says.

"Oh, it's no problem at all," the driver says. "So long as you aren't serial killers or nothing." They laugh, and Michael cracks a smile even though he has no idea why that's funny.

"I'm Judith, by the way," the woman says. "And this is Gale."

"Michael, and that's Adam and Lucifer."

"Lucifer?" Gale asks, quirking an eyebrow at him in the rearview mirror, which Michael notices has a crucifix hanging on it.

"It's just a nickname," Adam interjects with an awkward laugh. "Because Luke here can be such a little _devil_ sometimes." Gale and Judith exchange looks.

"Little?" Lucifer says, offended.

"Oh," Gale says.

A sudden air of awkwardness descends over the car. Michael ignores it and slouches in his seat until he's comfortable. It's a little weird, being pressed up against Lucifer. His left arm burns with the contact, even through layers of clothing, in a way that didn't happen with Adam except for that first time, when he lost the bet with Lucifer. The two angels never really touched each other, since it didn't offer them any comfort. At least with Adam they got some warmth out of it.

If Lucifer's as uncomfortable as Michael is, he doesn't show it. He plants his elbow on his thigh and his chin in his hand, and his eyes close only a few minutes into the drive, though Michael knows he's not sleeping. Adam's position is similar, except he actually does fall asleep. The van goes over a pothole that jolts everyone inside, and Adam's head ends up on Michael's shoulder. He smells like sweat and dirt and greasy diner food, but the weight against Michael's arm is a familiar one that helps take his mind off of the feeling of Lucifer pressed up against his side.

An hour or two into the drive, Gale pulls onto the side of the road so they and Judith can switch places. When she pulls back onto the road, she puts on a CD and turns the volume down low, so that the faint sound of classical music provides ambience instead of something to focus on. She catches Michael's eye in the mirror and winks.

"Driver gets to pick the music," she explains. "Gale's not particularly fond of being distracted while driving."

"It's dangerous, woman," comes a grumble from the passenger seat. In another half hour, Gale's asleep, too. Michael feels incredibly alone, all of a sudden. Not lonely, because he's far too used to this feeling to be bothered by it, but he can't help but envy Gale and Judith's easy camaraderie. Michael used to have that closeness, but it was so long ago he hardly remembers it.

At his side, Lucifer shifts until his head is on Michael's shoulder, too. He opens his eyes just long enough to glare, as if daring Michael to say anything, and then he closes them again and lets out a sigh through his nose. Slowly, when time passes and nothing happens, Michael's shoulders relax, and he tentatively rests his head on top of Adam's. Incredibly uncomfortable, but better than sitting up for however long they have left until they reach their destination.

There aren't any streetlights along the road, but the moonlight and the van's headlights provide more than enough light to see the road by. Judith quietly hums along with the CD, and replays it when it runs through all of its tracks. She looks at Michael as if checking to see if he'll object, but he gives her reflection a small smile instead of a complaint. She smiles back.

"Can't sleep?" she asks softly.

"No," Michael says truthfully. "I'm just…." He doesn't know how to explain how he's feeling. His chest feels tight, his throat itches, and he wants nothing more than to go to sleep and wake up back in the Cage. He can't say any of that out loud, not only because Judith won't understand but also because he doesn't want to start an argument with Lucifer. And he doesn't really understand it himself. Back to the Cage? Really?

"Sweetie," Judith says, and Michael's eyes immediately flick to hers. No one's ever called him anything like that before. "Why are y'all out here? Where are you trying to go?"

Michael's eyes lower as he thinks. "We're not… trying to go anywhere," he says slowly. "We're trying to get away from something, I think."

Judith sighs. "You boys don't have but a dollar to your names, do you?" Michael remembers what Lucifer said in the diner, and a wry smile twists his lips.

"We don't even have a dollar," he says. He looks down at Lucifer, silently wondering why he hasn't interrupted the conversation to add some unhelpful comment like he usually does.

"What happened to you?" Judith asks. Then she seems to catch herself, and she clears her throat and looks away from the mirror. "That is, if you don't mind my asking."

"I do mind," Michael says coolly.

"I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't pry," she says, and doesn't talk again after that.

The digital clock on the dashboard reads just after midnight by the time they pull into the parking lot of a small motel. Michael watches Judith gently shake Gale awake, then does the same to Adam. While he's busy blinking sleep out of his eyes, Michael turns to Lucifer.

"Lucifer, get off," he says, and frowns when there's no response. He shakes Lucifer, too, just to see if it works, and is surprised when it does. Lucifer blinks open his eyes and looks at Michael in confusion, then jolts upright. "You were actually asleep?" Michael says bemusedly, and Lucifer glares at him.

"Shut up," he hisses. He appears to be too tired to muster up his usual quick-witted responses, which Michael appreciates. The three of them (well, Adam) thank Judith and Gale for the ride, then gather their meager supplies and head into the lobby. They get the room at the far end of the motel, and by the time they get there Lucifer is looking more awake while Adam looks like he wants nothing more than to go back to sleep.

Michael makes him at least drink some Gatorade and eat two of the granola bars before he collapses into one of the beds, and then it's just him and Lucifer. Truthfully, following Adam into sleep is what Michael wants more than anything right now, but there's no way he would leave Lucifer as the last line of defense between them and whatever might know they're back. Lucifer might even be as big a threat as anything else is right now.

Sighing heavily, Michael sits on the edge of the other bed and closes his eyes. He listens to Adam's slow, even breathing, and the louder, more obtrusive sounds of Lucifer poking around in the bathroom.

"They can't actually be calling this Port-A-Potty stall a shower," Lucifer says, sounds downright scandalized. Michael doesn't respond, too busy trying to rein in the discomfort he's feeling. By the time Lucifer comes out of the bathroom, Michael feels a bit better, but he's still in no mood to interact with his brother.

Of course, Lucifer decides that now's the best time to start up a conversation, because he delights in causing others pain. There's a self-satisfied smirk on his face that Michael wants to rip off. Literally.

"On a scale of 'I'm surprisingly okay' to 'Please pitch me into the void', how do you feel about today's events?" Lucifer asks, miming holding a microphone in front of his face like he's a reporter. Michael glares half-heartedly at him and doesn't respond in a futile attempt to get his brother to shut up. "Ooh, so intimidating. You're about as scary as a baby, Michael, has anyone ever told you that?"

Michael growls and can't help responding, even though he knows he's allowing himself to be pulled into an argument. "If I recall correctly, I was the only one in Heaven besides Father who you were afraid of."

"Yeah, 'cause I was a sheltered brat," Lucifer scoffs. Then he grins with a literal mouthful of fangs, the expression contorting his face grotesquely. His eyes gleam unnaturally bright in the low light, and his voice is deep and distorted when he asks, "I've known true terror since then. Would you like me to show you?"

Despite himself, Michael shivers. Lucifer blinks and his grin is replaced by a normal sized shit-eating one.

"You're so easy," he says. Michael squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at them with the heels of his hands.

"Lucifer, enough," he says angrily. "I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, I can put you in the mood," Lucifer hisses. He has a lisp, as if there's something blocking part of his mouth, but Michael doesn't drop his hands to see what it could be. The tight feeling in his chest is back, and he takes a deep breath to try and dispel it. It shakes when he exhales.

And just like that, the mood changes. Michael can practically feel the tension in the air snap but he still doesn't drop his hands. He pulls his legs up onto the bed and rests his forehead on his bent knees, effectively trapping his hands in between his face and his thighs.

"Michael?" Lucifer says. Michael doesn't respond, and he hears a slight rustle as Lucifer moves. His voice is closer and his voice softer when he says, "Michael, what are you doing?"

A hand tentatively settles on his shoulder, only to fall away when Michael stiffens. He finally looks up and finds Lucifer looking down at him with confusion in his eyes.

"I don't trust you," Michael says. "And I know you don't trust me, but I won't let anything happen to you if you fall asleep again."

Lucifer's face hardens at that, but his voice is still soft when he says, "I'll do the same for you, if you want."

He can't really trust that, but Michael appreciates the attempt, even if it is a lie.

 

In the end, he doesn't fall asleep. Neither of them were expecting him to. Lucifer leaves the room at one point, and Michael doesn't really care about what happens to him but he can't help but watch the door vigilantly until he returns, two bottles of water and three bags of chips in his hands. Michael doesn't ask where he got them from.

Lucifer sits on the floor underneath the window and watches Michael unblinkingly for most of the night. Michael closes his eyes, folds his arms atop his bent knees, and rests his head on them. He can feel Lucifer's gaze on him but he doesn't react other than to tense whenever the other shifts. Adam, still dead to the world, doesn't react at all.

Sometime around four in the morning, Michael becomes aware that it's no longer just the three of them in the hotel room. He jerks his head up and his eyes land instantly on a man leaning casually against the door, eating an apple and watching Michael with an unreadable expression. Michael is on his feet instantly, more alert than he's been since he found himself in a cemetery in the middle of Kansas.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" he demands. His angel blade manifests in his sleeve and slides into his hand, and its familiar weight is like a balm on his frayed nerves.

"Michael, you really need to relax," the stranger says. "You actually need to worry about things like blood pressure now, so I wouldn't go around raising mine, if I were you."

"And who _are_ you?" Michael repeats, pointing his blade threateningly at the other. He wonders why Lucifer isn't reacting at all to the scene, even though his eyes are still focused on Michael.

"You know me," the stranger says. "Am I that unfamiliar to you? I haven't been gone that long."

Michael stares hard at him. His blade makes a dull _thunk!_ when it hits the ground.

"Father?" he says faintly. The stranger— _God_ —smiles.

"Took you long enough," he says. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me." If he opens his mouth, nothing's going to come out except for confused stutters, so Michael opts for staying silent. His Father's mouth twists ruefully. "These aren't the best conditions for a reconciliation, I know."

"Father," Michael says, ignoring how odd the word feels in his mouth, " _what_ is going on? Why are we out of the Cage? Where has our power gone?"

"Easy, Michael," God says, holding up a hand placatingly. "Look, I know you have a lot of questions, but I can't answer all of them. At least, not yet. I need you to trust that I know what I'm doing, alright?"

Something hot and painful twists in Michael's stomach, but he nods once. He picks up his fallen blade and slides it back into his sleeve, and then into the pocket dimension where he stores it.

"I know this is kind of a lot to throw at you all at once," God continues. "You seem to be holding up well, though."

"I don't know what's going on," Michael admits. "Father, what would you have me do?"

God smiles. "I wouldn't have you do anything you don't deem appropriate. Look, there's an end goal here, but you have other things to focus on now."

"Father-"

"No, Michael, listen to me." Michael's mouth shuts immediately, but he has to bite his own lip to prevent himself from speaking again. "You and Lucifer aren't human, but you're pretty damn close. That isn't my doing; it took everything I had just to get you what little power you have. You guys need to take better care of yourselves now. Those bodies aren't vessels anymore; they're you. There's no one else in there, and if that body dies, so do you."

"How is that different from being human?" Michael asks.

"Well, you can still fly short distances and access most of your abilities, albeit in limited capacity. And, of course, it'll take a lot more to kill you than it would a human." God looks thoughtfully at His apple core. "I'll admit, I wasn't really thinking ahead when I pulled you three back to earth. I was more worried about… well, you'll find out eventually. But I must apologize for everything so far. Hitchhiking isn't really what I would've chosen for you. I've made arrangements for you three, though."

He pulls a folded envelope out of His pocket and hands it to Michael. There's an address written down on it in messy, barely legible handwriting. Michael looks up, but God is gone. The only thing that remains is a single, uneaten apple on the floor. Lucifer is still looking at him but not responding as he picks it up, then sets it on the bed. The envelope, when he opens it, is stuffed full of papers and money and God knows what else, much more than could normally fit in an envelope of this size.

Michael is unbelievably tired all of a sudden. He shoves the envelope under his pillow and resumes his earlier position on the bed. Instead of resting his head on his arms, though, he picks up the apple and tentatively takes a bite. It's crisp and juicy and sweet, and as soon as the flavor hits his tongue Michael feels phantom fingers gently ghosting through his hair. He closes his eyes to fully enjoy the sensation, and when he opens them Lucifer is actually focused on him again.

"Where did you get an apple?" Lucifer asks. Michael doesn't reply, and briefly considers letting him have a bite. In the end, he eats the whole thing, and doesn't say a word until the sun comes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I've ever said anything about this, but I have a [tumblr](https://gabrielthetricksterarchangel.tumblr.com/)! I post about a lot of different fandoms and ships and memes, so if you're trash like me you should check it out :)


	3. Lucifer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I listened to while writing the panic attack scene is [Breathe Me by Sia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFGvmrJ5rjM), which I'd recommend listening to while reading.

Lucifer may not be as close to Michael as he used to be, but even he can tell that there's something bothering his brother. Or maybe he's not bothered, per se, but there's definitely something on his mind. Ever since he ate that apple (Lucifer still isn't sure how he got it, by the way) he's been preoccupied, staring off into space with unfocused eyes instead of hiding his face in his arms like he was before.

It's probably not any of his business, but that doesn't stop him from trying to figure out the best method of manipulation to get Michael to spill his secret. In the end, he just decides to wait until Adam wakes up, since Michael will probably talk on his own then, which is kind of sad, once he thinks about it. He and Michael are brothers, right? Yet it seems Adam is easier for Michael to talk to than Lucifer is. He's mature enough to admit that's partially his fault, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.

Around noon Lucifer decides that enough is enough, and, spurred by his own curiosity about Michael's weird mood, he goes over to the single window and rips open the blinds. A shaft of sunlight lands immediately on Adam's face, which scrunches up in displeasure. A moment later his eyes blink open and he sends a glare, frosty despite how sleepy he looks, towards Lucifer and the window.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" Lucifer says, loudly. Adam groans and pulls the blankets over his head.

"Lucifer," Michael warns, and Lucifer turns towards him with a blinding smile on his face.

"Yes, Michael?" he says sweetly. "Something you'd like to share with the class?"

Michael narrows his eyes, but Lucifer can see something flickering in them. His smile widens.

"Lucifer," Adam growls from underneath his comforter. "Let. Me. Sleep."

"But it's _such_ a beautiful day," Lucifer says. Then he smirks and looks his brother right in the eye as he says, "And Michael's keeping secrets."

There is a pause before Adam's head pokes out from underneath the blanket. His bedhead, Lucifer notes, is fucking ridiculous.

"Michael," Adam says slowly. "What secret is Lucifer talking about?"

Michael scowls. "It's not a secret. I was planning on saying something after you woke up, Adam."

_So I was right about them_ , Lucifer thinks, and tries not to scowl in response.

"Well, I'm awake now," Adam says, sitting up and arching his back in a languid stretch. Lucifer, busy watching Michael watching Adam, carefully doesn't notice. "Just let me go take a shower or something first. Can it wait that long?"

Michael hesitates. "I suppose," he says reluctantly. "But it is important."

"I'll hurry, then," Adam says dryly. A moment later, he disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of the shower starts to filter through the thin walls. Michael shifts in the bed and tucks his legs underneath him, and Lucifer stares at him until he looks up.

"Is there something I can do for you?" he asks.

Unsure of how to say what he wants to say, Lucifer opens his mouth to speak but hesitates. Michael definitely notices, and he frowns a little in response. "Do you think…. I mean, what are…." Lucifer growls, frustrated with himself and with Michael for making him say it out loud. Michael, for is part, just looks concerned for Lucifer's sanity.

"Lucifer, just speak," he says unhelpfully, and Lucifer sneers at him.

A moment of painfully awkward deliberation follows, before Lucifer blurts out, "Last night it took me three minutes to get a bag of chips." Michael narrows his eyes in confusion and is silent, and Lucifer becomes aware of how much better that sounded in his head. "It's just… that's a long time just to hack a vending machine, right?" he adds defensively, shrugging as if he doesn't care.

"It is longer than we'd need if we had our full strength, if that's what you're referring to," Michael says slowly. "I fail to see why it's relevant, though. You got your chips, regardless of how long it took."

Lucifer exhales slowly. His chest feels tight, somehow, like there's someone squeezing his ribs and his lungs and his heart into one tangled, compressed mess. He honestly doesn't know why he thought talking to his brother would help. Maybe he's just latching onto whatever feels familiar, since it seems everything else is falling apart around him.

"Glad we had that talk," he says, and Michael just looks even more confused.

.

A suffocatingly tense silence rests over the room as Adam goes through the contents of the envelope. It's one of those big orange ones with a little metal clasp to keep it shut, which normally can hold a fair amount of papers, but the amount of stuff Adam pulled out of it is truly staggering. If the mere fact that Michael had the envelope wasn't proof enough that God gave it to him, the number of papers that fit in the thing surely is.

Lucifer's only half-paying attention to what Adam's doing, though. He's mostly thinking about how he's the only one who hasn't been visited by God yet. It's understandable, considering what Lucifer's done in the past, but you'd think that if God went through all the trouble to raise him from Hell he would at least drop by to say "Hi".

The truth is, Lucifer's hurt by the dismissal, even if he doesn't let anyone see it, though Michael and Adam, sitting side-by-side on the bed with their heads bent close together so they can see whatever it is their looking at, are paying so little attention to Lucifer that he doesn't even have to try to keep his emotions hidden. All he does is look out the window so that they'll think whatever expression is on his face is in reaction to something happening outside the motel.

"I'm speechless," Adam says after a few minutes, and Lucifer looks over at him with half-lidded eyes.

"And here I was thinking your name was Adam," he snarks. "What next, are you going to tell me Michael's name is actually Rachel?"

Adam frowns at him. "What's up with you?"

"What's up is my dick," Lucifer mumbles, which is obnoxious enough to distract Adam. He rolls his eyes and holds up one of the papers.

"Come here, some of this stuff is for you."

Lucifer stays by the window for a few moments just to prove a point, and then he gets up and flops onto the bed. Not because Adam called him over, but because he wants to know what was in the envelope. Duh.

"So, what did Daddy Dearest leave for his most damned children?" Lucifer asks, squirming until he finds a comfortable position with his chin resting on his arms. Almost unconsciously, Adam's hand finds its way to his hair and starts scratching lightly, and Lucifer lets out a tiny sigh of contentment.

"It's basically everything we'll need to start new lives," Adam explains. "Birth certificates, credit cards, bank accounts….There's even the deed to a house somewhere in Detroit."

Lucifer scoffs. "Wow. I never realized what a shitty sense of humor He has."

Adam and Michael exchange confused looks, but Lucifer reaches for one of the laminated ID cards sitting near Adam's foot and doesn't explain himself. There are three IDs as well as a whole bunch of credit cards, library cards, and rewards cards. There's even one for PetSmart, which Lucifer doesn't understand since they have no pets. Unless you count Adam.

"Luther Wells," Lucifer reads aloud. "That's such a bad picture of me, holy shit." He grabs the other two IDs. "Adam Miller and Michael Striker. You guys look better in your pictures than I do." He squints at the tiny photos until Adam takes all three cards from him and hands him a twenty-dollar bill instead.

"He left us a bunch of cash to get us to Detroit," he explains. "But I'm not moving until I eat, so go get some breakfast."

"Do I look like your bitch?" Lucifer asks, handing the money off to Michael. "Tell _him_ to go."

Adam rolls his eyes. "Lucifer, just go get some food." Lucifer raises his brows in challenge and settles himself more firmly on the bed. Adam glares at him and hands him another twenty. "Will you go if I let you buy whatever the hell you want with that?"

Lucifer considers it. "Fine. But don't complain about what I bring you." He snatches the bill back from a bemused Michael and lifts himself off the bed, grumbling the whole way. In the doorway, he pauses for just a second and looks over his shoulder. Adam has already begun dividing the documents into three separate piles, with Michael's help, and neither of them so much as look up. He makes sure to slam the door on the way out.

The morning—or afternoon, rather, since it's almost one o'clock—is hot and sunny, and Lucifer is incredibly disturbed to find himself sweating by the time he makes it to the nearest shopping center that has restaurants. He's glad to see that this town, unlike the last one, is apparently big enough for a McDonald's. There are only a few other people in there and they all stare at Lucifer as he comes in, but he's so glad to be out of the heat that he doesn't even retaliate like he normally would.

They're not serving pancakes anymore, which sucks. Lucifer spends an uncomfortably long time glaring at the woman behind the counter, trying to influence her thoughts so he can get some breakfast food, but to his frustration it doesn't work. He angrily orders three burgers and, in a fit of pique, a sundae with extra fudge.

He still has about twenty bucks left by the time he leaves with his two bags of food, so he looks around the shopping center and eventually decides to make a quick stop at the Dollar Tree across the parking lot. The fluffy white angel wings he buys are more than a dollar, but he's so pleased with his find that he pays the full price without complaint. He probably gets a lot of strange looks as he walks back, drinking a half-melted sundae with a pair of tiny wings strapped to his back. The thought gives him some pleasure; he can't see the people he's irritating, but he knows they're there and that's enough for him.

Sometime after he left, either Adam or Michael locked the motel door. He's annoyed that he has to knock and then wait for someone to let him in, but he comforts himself with the thought that their food is cold, and it'll be at least partly their fault for barring his way back into the room.

It's Adam who opens the door. He blinks at the sight of Lucifer's wings.

" _That's_ what you spent twenty dollars on?" he asks incredulously.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lucifer scoffs, pushing past him. "They were only five bucks. I'm keeping the change, by the way, and I hope you like McDonald's, 'cause I'm not going back out."

"Hmm." Adam wrinkles his nose at the food, but unwraps one of the burgers without complaint. Michael joins him a moment later, ignoring the burgers in favor of the fries. Lucifer tries his best to ignore the disgustingly enticing scents wafting around the room, but he's always been just a tad too hedonistic for his own good. He grabs a few fries and dips them into the remains of his sundae. It's not bad, actually. He wonders how they would taste dipped in a strawberry milkshake.

"Is that all you want?" Adam asks, frowning slightly.

"I'm an angel," Lucifer says. "I don't need to eat."

"We do now," Michael reminds him, poking curiously at a burger. "Not as often or as much as a human, maybe, but we do need to eat."

"I ate on the way back here," Lucifer says, which isn't technically a lie. In any case, it appeases Adam, who goes back to his burger.

"This is disgusting," Michael says.

"Welcome to America," Lucifer replies.

.

Now that they have money, they don't need to hitchhike all the way to Detroit. Adam books plane tickets on an ancient computer at the town's public library, and then he takes Adam Miller's ID and credit card and goes out to buy supplies. He asks Lucifer to go with him, which is so surprising that Lucifer finds himself agreeing before he can even fully process the request.

The walk to the nearest Walmart is just as hot as the one to McDonald's, but for some reason it's a little more bearable. Even though he's no longer freezing, he reaches out to hold Adam's hand as they walk. Both of their palms start sweating immediately, but neither of them let go until they get to the store.

Lucifer pushes the cart and follows behind Adam as he wanders up and down the aisles, grabbing whatever he thinks they'll need and tossing it in without a care. It's mostly things like toothbrushes, soap, and razors, though he also makes a detour to buy three pairs of heavy boots and a bunch of shirts, pants, underwear, and socks.

"This should hold us over until we get to Detroit," Adam says as he goes through the cart. He finds the bag of dog treats Lucifer slipped in and puts them back on the shelf without even looking up. Lucifer wonders whether he should tell Adam that he forgot to buy a suitcase or let him figure it out on his own and have to come back for one. In the end it doesn't matter, because Adam remembers on his own and leaves Lucifer in line so he can run and grab one. While he's gone, Lucifer graciously allows the three people behind him to cut in front of him.

There's a moment of anxiety on Adam's part when they pay—the credit cards came from God, but that doesn't mean they won't be denied. The man behind the counter doesn't gasp dramatically and accuse them of credit card fraud, though, and Adam gives a tiny, relieved smile. Lucifer slips a pack of gum onto the conveyor belt and glares at Adam, daring him to put it back. He doesn't.

It's much later by the time they get back to the motel. The sun is already starting to set but it's just as hot as it was before, and Lucifer feels truly disgusting as he dumps their stuff onto the bed. Michael goes to talk quietly to Adam near the window, but Lucifer doesn't pay them any attention as he rifles through the bags, practically shivering from the feeling of sweat and dirt caked onto his skin.

He grabs clothes and soap and practically runs to the bathroom, accidentally slamming the door in his haste. The noise makes him flinch, and he forces himself to take a moment and calm down. After taking a deep breath and letting it out as slowly as he can, he turns on the shower and twists the knobs until the water is as hot as it'll go. He strips off his clothes and tosses them carelessly into the corner, then braces his hands on the sink and stares at his reflection in the mirror.

He doesn't even know if he can say he's the same as he was before. His hair is still short, if a little greasy and unkept; his eyes are still blue, though they're dull and have bags under them; his mouth is the same, even if it's tight with stress. But he looks… different. More human. If this is what two days of humanity has done to him, how will he survive however much time he has left?

He exhales sharply and squeezes his eyes shut. "Don't contemplate your own mortality, Lucifer," he mutters to himself. With one last glare at his reflection, he turns and steps into the shower. The water's hotter than he anticipated and it takes a little getting used to, but once he's adjusted it feels amazing. He can practically feel the dirt and sweat melting off as he scrubs himself down with cheap body wash. _I can see why humans take showers so often_ , he thinks as he washes his hair. Feeling a little hedonistic today, he uses the conditioner after he washes the shampoo out.

The bathroom is a mess of steam by the time he turns the water off, so no matter how much he wipes himself down with a towel his skin retains a light sheen of moisture. Eventually he gives up and just puts on his clothes. The sweatpants and t-shirt are a little loose, not to mention completely different from the clothes he usually wears, but at least they're clean. He puts on a pair of socks, too, because he doesn't want to be walking around on the questionably clean motel floor.

When he gets out, both Michael and Adam look up at him. They look surprised, for reasons Lucifer doesn't care enough about to try to fathom. He dries his hair as well as he can and then dumps the towel onto the floor and flops onto the closest bed. Michael, who's sitting on the edge, bounces with the movement but doesn't fall off.

"I didn't expect you to shower," he says. Lucifer hides his sneer in his arms, but he's pretty sure Michael can hear it in his voice.

"I was just trying to set a good example. You smell like a dumpster."

"Lucifer, be nice," Adam says from the other bed, only half paying attention. Lucifer thinks he's looking through his new documents—his new identity—but he's too comfortable to look up and check. "But he's right, Michael, you should go take a shower. Our flight is tomorrow and you're going to feel gross enough afterwards as it is."

"If airports are so gross, why do humans insist on flying everywhere?" Michael mutters, but a few moments later Lucifer hears him walk into the bathroom and lock the door behind him.

In the few moments before the shower turns on, the only sounds in the room are the shuffling of Adam's papers and Lucifer's soft breathing. It's nice. Peaceful. Once the water starts, it's a little less peaceful, but just as nice, which is concerning. Lucifer tries to figure out why he'd enjoy this… this _domesticity_ , but his mind feels sluggish and slow, like it had when he'd woken up in the cemetery.

The shuffling of Adam's papers stops for a moment. "You look tired," he says. "You should take a nap."

"Angels don't need sleep," Lucifer says sleepily. His head is still in his arms so it comes out more like an unintelligible mumble than actual words, but Adam gets the gist of it anyway. The shuffling noise stops, and then Lucifer hears the soft pad of footsteps coming closer. The bed dips as Adam sits next to him, and he looks up. Adam is looking down at him with a worried look on his face.

"You're not exactly a full angel anymore, Lucifer," he says, and Lucifer winces.

"You have no right to tell me what I am," he says angrily. "You're not even a full Winchester. You're a bastard child, only good as a vessel, and you couldn't even do that properly."

Adam's hand, which had found its way to Lucifer's hair again, jolts away. The worry in Adam's blue eyes disappears, and is replaced by anger and hurt. The sight doesn't give Lucifer as much satisfaction as it used to.

"You know what, I'm done," Adam says. "You've been sulking ever since we got out of the Cage and I'm not going to try to figure out why anymore. Why can't you just be happy that we're free?"

"Why can't you stay out of affairs that don't concern you, mud monkey?" Lucifer counters. His voice echoes unnaturally, and he allows his Grace—red, where any other angel's would be blue-white—to shine through his eyes. Adam pales, but glares at Lucifer as he goes back to his bed.

"When you drop dead because you aren't taking care of yourself, don't come crying to me," he snaps. Lucifer sneers, but his heartbeat speeds up at the thought of dying. He exhales and puts his head back in his arms. A second later, the paper-shuffling noise comes back, and Lucifer focuses on it as he tries to calm down.

It doesn't work. His heartbeat rabbits against his ribs, his breath comes in short, sporadic bursts, and the tightness in his chest from earlier returns. It presses against his lungs and makes it hard to breathe, and he feels the sharp, unfamiliar feeling of panic setting in.

He doesn't realize he's shaking until he feels something run through his hair. It takes him a second to realize it's Adam's hand, and then he lifts his head and tries to glare. He's not sure what he looks like, but Adam's eyebrows are furrowed with concern so he figures he looks pretty pathetic. Much to his frustration, the thought brings angry tears to his eyes.

Adam's mouth moves and through the ringing in his ears, Lucifer thinks he can make out the sound of his own name. That just makes him angrier, and he pushes Adam away at the same time as he pushes himself up. He trips and ends up falling gracelessly onto his butt, and then he scoots into the corner and crouches there defensively, wishing he had wings to spread.

"Leave me alone," he hisses. Dimly, he's aware of the bathroom door opening, but it doesn't register until he sees Michael suddenly standing next to Adam, his eyes wide and his hair dripping wet.

"Lucifer," he says. His voice sounds distorted, and Lucifer's breath hitches in response.

"Go away!" The lamp on the bedside table explodes into millions of shards of glass and cheap plastic, and both Adam and Michael flinch. Lucifer sinks down until his butt is on the floor.

"Lucifer, I think you're having a panic attack," Adam says, somewhat desperately.

" _Get out_!" Lucifer shouts. This time it's the bathroom mirror that shatters; he can hear the crash of glass hitting the floor, and he flinches at the noise. His face feels hot and sticky where tears stream down his cheeks, and he scrubs at them angrily with one hand. He flinches when Michael reaches for him and tries to push himself farther back into the wall. He doesn't want them to see him like this, and he doesn't understand why they won't just _leave_.

That pressure in his chest is back, pushing and squeezing harder than ever before. Lucifer squeezes his eyes shut and clutches at his chest, fisting his hand in his shirt. A sob is trapped in his throat, unable to escape because he can't breathe, _he can't breathe he can't breathe he really is going to die here-_

"Lucifer, breathe, dammit!" Adam shouts, his hands on Lucifer's shoulders with bruising pressure. His eyes are wide with emotions Lucifer can't name as he stares into them. "Keep your eyes on me, okay? I need you to take a deep breath in."

He breathes in slowly as if to show Lucifer what to do, and Lucifer copies him, overwhelming fear overriding his pride for a moment. He dissolves into coughs once his chest expands as much as it can, which isn't nearly as much as Adam's encouraging him to do.

"Good," Adam says, sounding relieved even though Lucifer still can't breathe through his coughing. Except he manages to suck in a huge breath in the middle of his fit, and by the time his coughs have subsided, he's breathing. Well, sobbing, but that's still better than not breathing at all.

Michael, who'd been standing behind Adam with a fearful look on his face, pushes forward then and envelops Lucifer in a hug, and Lucifer sinks into it, muffling his wails into his brother's shirt. A hand cards gently through his hair and he doesn't know if it's Michael's or Lucifer's. At this point, he's too gone to care.

He doesn't know how long they sit there on the floor, but it feels like an eternity before Lucifer's sobs dissolve into short, hiccupping breaths. He doesn't want to move and face the other two. With his face pressed into his brother's chest and his eyes closed tight, he can almost pretend that he doesn't eventually have to. But all too soon, Michael starts to pull away. Lucifer whines in protest and keeps his eyes closed tight.

"Lucifer, open your eyes," Adam says, and Lucifer shakes his head.

"Luci, please." That's Michael, sounding more wrecked than Lucifer's ever heard him, and his eyes open unbidden. They're both kneeling in front of him, watching him with wide, anxious eyes. Adam's even crying. Lucifer's too tired to sneer like he normally would.

"Don't talk to me," he says, his voice still thick with tears. He rubs his cheek against his shoulder, but it doesn't help get rid of the gross, sticky feeling of tears drying on his face. He feels like shit; his nose is stuffy, his sinuses burn, his throat's sore, his head hurts, and he wants nothing more than to just stop feeling.

"Okay," Adam says, softly, like he's calming a wild, skittish animal. He reaches out and wipes the other side of Lucifer's face, and Lucifer doesn't do anything except watch him. "Okay, but let's get off the floor first. Do you think you can move?"

Lucifer glares and carefully pulls himself up, leaning against the wall for balance and ignoring the way his knees flare up with pain. The other two stand with him and Michael reaches out, an aborted little movement that speaks of a need to offer stability. Lucifer leans towards him the slightest bit, which is all the incentive Michael needs to reach out and wrap an arm around his waist.

"You should sleep," Adam murmurs. "And drink something. Do you want to wash your face first?"

Lucifer looks towards the bathroom, where he can clearly make out the glare of light bouncing off broken glass. He thinks washing his face would help, but he doesn't have the energy necessary to do it himself right now. Adam must be able to tell what he's thinking, because he pushes him gently towards the bed.

"Go lie down," he says. "I'll bring you a washcloth or something."

Michael helps Lucifer stumble towards the bed and draws the blankets up over his shoulders. Lucifer closes his eyes and burrows into them. The dry, staticky smell of cheap laundry detergent hurts his nose, but it's warm under the blankets, and he can't stop shivering. The bed dips as Michael sits on the edge of it. He runs a hand carefully up and down Lucifer's back through the blanket. It's awkward, like he's not sure how to offer physical comfort and is only copying what he's seen someone else do, but Lucifer leans into the contact anyway.

"Are you okay?" Michael asks quietly. Lucifer shuts his eyes and doesn't answer. Michael doesn't ask again.

Adam returns a few moments later, a glass of water in one hand and a wet washcloth in the other. He makes Lucifer sit up and drink it all (he never thought he could be so thirsty, but he drains the whole glass in only a few gulps) before handing him the cloth. He scrubs at his eyes and cheeks until the only trace of his tears are his swollen, red-rimmed eyes.

Finally, he is permitted to lie down again. Considering how against it he was before, he falls asleep quickly.

.

He opens his eyes to darkness, and is so groggy that it takes him a few moments to remember where he is, and why. His arms are heavy when he tries to lift a hand to his eyes and he feels weak, light-headed, and empty. Everything hurts.

"Lucifer?" Adam calls softly from somewhere nearby. Lucifer doesn't want to face him right now and briefly considers going back to sleep, but it's bad enough that he's slept so much already. He sits up with a pained grimace, surprised that such a simple action could require so much energy. Adam is there immediately, hovering with one hand partially outstretched, as if he wants to reach out and help but isn't sure he would be allowed.

Lucifer is glad; he doesn't feel like being touched right now. His skin is crawling, his frame wracked with shivers that he hasn't felt since those early days in the cage. Ignoring Adam for the moment, he looks around the motel room and feels a sharp pang of _wrongness_ in his gut when he notices something missing.

"Where's Michael?" he asks. His voice, croaky and hoarse, surprises them both. Adam reaches for a water bottle on the nightstand and hands it to Lucifer, then glares until he starts drinking.

"He went out not too long ago," Adam says. "He said he wouldn't be long, though."

That sense of wrongness is still there, but knowing his brother will be back soon makes it abate a little. He guzzles down half the water bottle before handing it back, even though the water felt amazing on his dry throat and he's sure he could drink more.

Adam looks at him hesitantly out of the corner of his eye and plays absentmindedly with the water bottle's cap. Lucifer debates ignoring him completely or asking the questions he has, but Adam beats him to it.

"Lucifer," he starts.

"What was that?" Lucifer interrupts. If this awkward encounter is going to happen, it's going to happen on his terms.

Adam looks a bit taken aback, but then he turns on the bed to fully face Lucifer and his hands go still where they're holding the bottle.

"That was a panic attack," he says, his voice strangely clinical. Lucifer rolls the term around his mind, trying it out and feeling all of its contours and nuances. He decides he doesn't like it.

"Why?" he demands. Adam shrugs.

"They can be triggered by a lot of different things," he says. He looks a little ashamed. "I think what I said didn't help. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

Now Lucifer shrugs. "I snapped first," he says, which is as close to an apology as he's going to get. He hopes Adam realizes that, because Lucifer is exhausted and he's not going to deal with this human demanding a proper apology. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and tries to stand, but as soon as he does black spots appear over his vision and he sways. Adam jumps up and gently pushes him back onto the bed.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he says. "Panic attacks can take a lot out of you."

Lucifer sneers. Hot, dark emotions roil in his gut—anger, definitely, and anxiety, and something he thinks might be shame—and he clenches his fists. Adam notices, and gently pries his fingers away from his palms.

"I'm an archangel," he says. " _Nothing_ affects me like it would a human."

"Maybe not usually," Adam says. "But your Grace is diminished right now. You're not human, but you're not as invulnerable as you used to be."

Lucifer glares and turns his head away, staring at the wall angrily. Adam sighs.

"Can I touch you?" he asks. Lucifer shudders at the thought of hands on him.

"No," he says, and Adam instantly backs off a bit.

"Okay," he says. "I want you to try to take deep breaths. You were only out for an hour and a half, but you might still feel anxious or whatever."

"How do you know so much about panic attacks?" Lucifer asks curiously, and then takes a shaky breath in through his nose. Adam smiles softly and looks down at his hands, but it's obvious that he's not focusing on them.

"I was a pre-med student before. Well. Before everything," he says wistfully. He blinks and visibly pulls himself together. "It wasn't exactly part of our curriculum since we weren't training to be therapists or anything, but I thought it would be useful to know what to do."

Lucifer doesn't know how to respond to the longing in Adam's voice, so he simply nods and continues breathing.

Michael returns only a few minutes later, holding a few plastic bags. It takes him a while to notice that Lucifer's awake.

"I found everything you wanted except for the portable DVD player, but the woman at the front desk told me the TV comes with movie channels, so-" He blinks at Lucifer. "Oh. Um. Hello."

"Hi," Lucifer says, a little amused. He's never seen his brother so preoccupied before, and it's a welcome change from the stoic Michael who was always in control who Lucifer remembers. "What's with all the stuff?"

"I asked him to get some things I thought you might need," Adam says. "You know, food, water, Tylenol. Stuff like that."

"Um, no. I'm good," Lucifer says. Adam narrows his eyes.

"I don't think so," he says. "Look, I get that you have some macho angel complex thing going on, but unless you want to fuck up your body, I suggest you listen to me, seeing as I'm the only one who has any experience with being human."

"I'm not human!" Lucifer snaps. Adam makes a face like he wants to strangle Lucifer, but Michael intervenes before things get out of hand.

"I think you should listen to Adam," he says to Lucifer. "He's right, he's the only one with experience about these things." Lucifer bristles, but pauses when Michael turns to Adam. "But don't try to push him into anything. That's not going to help anyone."

Adam purses his lips and crosses his arms, but nods once. "I _think_ ," he says, "that you should eat something and drink some more water, at the very least."

"I'm not hungry," Lucifer says.

"Well, it's not like you'd know that even if you were," Adam points out patiently, and Lucifer grits his teeth. He preferred it when Adam was yelling at him; at least then he had an excuse to yell back. "Look, panic attacks can take a lot out of you, so regardless of whether or not you were hungry before, you should eat something."

"What part of 'no'-"

"Lucifer," Michael says sternly, and Lucifer's mouth snaps shut. He looks up at his brother with eyes wide from surprise. "This is no longer stubbornness. If you continue to refuse Adam's advice, even knowing that he's simply trying to help you, it will become self-harm."

Lucifer's mouth drops open in shock. Self-harm is one of the worst things an angel can do, almost as bad as disobeying or purposefully Falling. Even when Lucifer was creating demons and enticing humans to rebel against God, he never went that far.

"Fine," he hisses. He flops back onto the bed, then winces when it makes his head throb. "Do what you want with me, witch doctor."

"God, you're so annoying," Adam mutters. "Alright, come on, at least sit up. Do you have to pee or anything?"

Lucifer makes a face. "No, thankfully," he says. He sits up, then scoots over to the middle of the bed when Adam nudges at his hip. He and Michael settle on either side of Lucifer, effectively boxing him in, unless he wants to crawl over one of their laps or the foot of the bed. He decides to stay to save whatever dignity he has left.

They pull the comforter off of the other bed and wrap it around them and then pile pillows up behind them so they have something soft to lean against, and Lucifer admits—way, way in the back of his mind—that he's comfortable. Extremely comfortable, in fact. He surreptitiously snuggles down into the comforter and presses back against the heat of Adam's arm against his own.

"Here," Adam says, pulling the plastic grocery bags towards him. "We have soup, sandwiches, Gatorade, water, cookies, and granola bars. What are you in the mood for?"

Lucifer purses his lips. "Soup, I guess," he says. "It better not be fucking tomato."

Adam checks the lid of the soup container. "Chicken noodle," he says, passing the cup and a plastic spoon over. "Michael, do you want anything?"

"No, thank you," Michael says. Lucifer silently fumes over the fact that Adam doesn't force him to eat, but he doesn't want to seem like an immature brat by bringing it up, so he simply eats his soup.

The woman at the front desk apparently can't tell the difference between movie channels and a movie channel. Unless they want to watch pay-per-view porn, they have to settle for a movie about something called Muppets. It's inane and pointless, but it provides background noise for Lucifer to tune out as he eats. After the soup is finished he finds he's still hungry, so he eats one of the sandwiches and drains a water bottle, too, less to satisfy his own hunger than to satisfy Adam's mother hen instincts.

Almost an hour later, Lucifer's eyes are closed and his head has dropped onto Michael's shoulder, and he's barely hanging on to the last threads of consciousness. He's too comfortable to move or to worry about how his brother might react.

"You can go back to sleep, if you want. We have to be at the airport early anyway, so you should get whatever sleep you can," Adam says softly. Lucifer mumbles in response and turns his face farther into Michael's shoulder, sighing in contentment when he feels an arm tentatively wrap around his shoulders.

Soon, he is asleep.

.

About a hundred or so years ago, when they were still in the Cage, Adam had woken up after one of his decade-long naps and declared that even in the absence of time, he was still not a morning person. Lucifer and Michael didn't understand what that meant at first, but after a few days on Earth, Lucifer is pretty confident that he's not a morning person, either. Michael, because of course he has to be a morning person, has no problem getting up hours before ass crack of dawn so they can go to the airport, but Lucifer (and Adam, to a lesser extent) is still-half asleep when they check out.

He showers while Adam and Michael pack their stuff into the newly-bought suitcases, hoping that the water will help wake him up, but he's still exhausted—though a little more clean—when they leave. The original plan was to sneak out without paying for the room, but thanks to God and the envelope of cash He left Michael (Lucifer is _not_ bitter) they can actually afford to pay for their room.

Lucifer and Michael wait in the taxi while Adam pays. There are three seats in the back but Lucifer sits next to the driver, who gives him a disgruntled look and scoots a little closer to the driver's side door. Giving her a half-hearted glare, he leans his head against the window and closes his eyes, trying to fall asleep again as quickly as possible. He remembers that it was actually nice to sleep in a car, with the rhythmic rocking motions keeping him in some half-asleep trance, and once Adam returns and the taxi sets off, he finds himself slipping further and further towards slumber.

He doesn't know when he eventually nods off, but when he blinks open his eyes again there's bright sunlight shining directly into his eyes and the scenery outside is passing by so fast it's just a blur. He makes a disgruntled noise and sits up from where he was slumped against the window.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Adam says with a grin.

"Fuck off," Lucifer grumbles. The cab driver snickers under her breath and Lucifer flips her off, which just makes her laugh even more. "Are we almost there?"

"Yeah, the exit should be coming up soon," the driver says. Adam locks eyes with Lucifer in the mirror, a devious little grin on his face.

"Did you know," he says, "that you make these really cute little humming noises in your sleep?"

Lucifer's face heats up all of a sudden, and he watches in the rear view mirror as his cheeks turn pink. In the seat behind him, Michael laughs. It's an unfamiliar enough sound that Lucifer's slightly distracted, but then Adam joins in and he's irritated again.

"I did not wake up to be harassed like this," he says. Even the cab driver looks amused. Lucifer goes back to leaning against the window, but he doesn't close his eyes. He watches as the highway flies by outside the car, faster than his human body could run but slower than he could fly. He wonders if this is what it would look like if he slowed down when flying.

The driver wasn't lying when she said they were close. Only a few minutes after Lucifer wakes up, they take the exit that leads to the airport. Soon, the cab is pulled up in front of the arrivals gate and Lucifer, Michael, and Adam are pulling their suitcase out of the back.

Even this early there are a lot of people milling around, some looking as tired as Lucifer feels and some with a manic energy that outs them as late for their flights. Adam fits right in with the bustle but Michael and Lucifer, trailing behind him with no idea of where they're going, stick out like sore thumbs. At least, Lucifer feels like they do. Some people give him strange looks as he passes, but that may just be because he's glaring distrustfully at everything like he's tripping on acid and seeing things.

Their bag, even though it contains literally all of their worldly possessions, is small enough to be a carry on, so once they get their tickets from the self-serve kiosk, they pass by the check-in counters and head straight for security.

Lucifer's been inside of airports before, but he can't stop looking around as they walk; this airport is so _small_ , and there are so many people around even though it's so early. Eventually he lags behind enough that Adam doubles back to grab his arm and drag him along, which just makes it easier for Lucifer to look around without bumping into anyone.

Security annoys him but it goes by relatively quickly, and then they're at their gate, settling into the hard plastic chairs. There are little travel shops and restaurants scattered all along the hall, wafting warm, enticing smells throughout this entire section of the airport. Lucifer covers his nose with the cuff of his coat sleeve in an attempt to block them out, but his stomach, as if able to sense the food, rumbles anyway. Adam raises an eyebrow at him.

"Hungry?" he asks. Lucifer glares. He's about to say no, but then his stomach gives another little grumble and he blushes. Michael smirks at him.

"It does smell delicious in here," he says.

"Yeah, I could go for some food," Adam says. "It's about time for breakfast, anyway."

"It's only eight in the morning," Lucifer protests.

"I know," Adam says with a slight wince. He shares a look with Lucifer. "I'm totally not a morning person."

"Preach," Lucifer says.

"That being said," Adam continues, fishing the envelope out of the depths of the suitcase's outer pocket, "we might as well eat. Just don't get anything too sugary."

"Yes, mom," Lucifer says sarcastically, taking the money that Adam holds out for him. He shoves it into his pocket and then leaves his hand there, and uses his other to pull Michael up out of his seat. "Come on, let's go get breakfast."

"Why do I have to come?" Michael asks even as he falls into step with Lucifer.

"Because I could get lost in here," Lucifer says, turning to him with wide, innocent eyes. "What would you do with my ID and credit cards if I was kidnapped or murdered?"

Michael rolls his eyes. "Let's just get food," he says, "before our human is forced to come find us."

Lucifer follows bemusedly as Michael hunts for a decent breakfast place, his thoughts all centered around two words. _Our_ human? Since when is Adam _theirs_? As appealing as that sounds—and isn't _that_ a scary thought all on its own?—Lucifer is more inclined to believe that Adam would never belong to anyone. He's much too independent to ever need anyone as Michael is implying, or to be a pet, as Lucifer silently called him not that long ago.

Still, he can't deny that the thought makes him pleased, for more than one reason. He can't remember the last time he was grouped together with Michael in a way that didn't pitt them against each other. It's been _Lucifer and Michael, harbingers of the Apocalypse_ for so long that just plain old _Lucifer and Michael_ sounds strange. But not… unpleasant.

"Lucifer."

He blinks back to the present to find Michael staring at him with his eyebrows furrowed. Somehow, they ended up first in line at a Cinnabon place, but Michael's ignoring the irritated looking person behind the counter in favor of frowning at Lucifer.

"I've been trying to get your attention for a while," he says. Lucifer shrugs.

"Try harder next time," he replies, pushing past his brother to order their breakfast: three Cinnabons, and a water bottle and a cup of diced fruit since Adam didn't want anything too sweet. Lucifer makes Michael carry the bag as they walk back to their gate. He keeps his gaze ahead and his steps easy and natural despite the discomfort caused by Michael's gaze.

He wonders what his brother thinks about this whole situation—and especially about being forced to travel with a Winchester half-breed and Lucifer, of all beings—but he's not going to ask. He tried having a serious discussion with Michael not too long ago and it didn't really work out, but he doesn't know if it's because Michael's not good at picking up implications or because Lucifer's a little _too_ subtle. Or maybe it was a combination of both.

Adam, it seems, has picked up a book from on if the stores while Lucifer and Michael were getting food. He's sitting sideways in his chair with his legs thrown over the seat next to him and his head resting awkwardly on the back of his chair. He smiles and sits up when he sees them, sliding a finger into his book to mark his place, but when he sees the bag held in Michael's hand he makes a face.

"Cinnabons?" he says. "Those count as sugary, Lucifer."

"Hey, it wasn't my idea to get them," Lucifer says defensively. "Besides, we got you fruit, too." He sits down next to Adam and pulls his Cinnabon out of the bag before passing it over. Once Adam finds his cup of fruit and a fork, he returns to his previous position, this time with his head on Lucifer's shoulder and his legs thrown over Michael's lap. An old man sitting in the row across from theirs glares at them, and Lucifer gleefully flips him off and makes faces until he huffs and leaves.

Lucifer likes Cinnabons, but he eats this one slowly, taking small bites because it really is very sugary. He can already feel his stomach cramping up in protest to all that sweetness so early in the morning, so he alternates between bites of Cinnabon and sips of water, and the occasional piece of fruit from Adam's cup. Two seats down, Michael is poking at his Cinnabon with his fork, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"It's so… messy," he says. Lucifer and Adam gape at him.

"You've never had a Cinnabon before?" Adam asks incredulously.

"I've never had a Cinnabon before," Michael affirms. "I've never had reason to eat one before."

"Someone's wronged you," Lucifer says, and Michael glares half-heartedly at him. "Look, just cut a piece off with your fork and eat it."

"But there's so much _stuff_ on it," Michael says.

"The stuff is the best part," Adam says. "Just trust us, it's worth it."

Michael looks dubious still, but he obediently cuts a good sized piece of the Cinnabon off and eats it. Adam and Lucifer watch intently as he chews, and when his eyes suddenly widen in surprise, they both grin.

"Like it?" Lucifer asks.

"I have never been more glad of my human taste buds," Michael says, and takes another bigger bite. Lucifer's smile dims a little at that, and he sits back and stares at the half-eaten Cinnabon in his lap. He closes the lid and puts it back into the bag. Maybe he'll finish it later.

There's a little ding on the overhead PA system as the man behind the counter lifts an old-fashioned cord phone to his ear.

" _Flight 388 to Willow Run is on time and will now begin boarding. All pre-boarding passengers, please form a line and have your boarding passes ready_."

"Is that us?" Lucifer asks.

"No, we're group B," Adam replies. "But we should probably get ready to go, anyway. Michael, could you help me throw the trash away?"

While they head off in search of a trash can, Lucifer wanders over to the large floor-to-ceiling windows next to the terminal and looks out at the plane. It's on the smaller side, since the flight isn't that long, and it doesn't look safe. Its wings are already wobbling slightly in the wind from outside. Lucifer is incredibly dubious about its ability to even stay in the air, but he doesn't have any other choice but to trust that this thing won't crash.

If he could fly on his own, he would—actually, if he could fly on his own, he wouldn't still be here. He'd be far, far away from any angels or Winchesters, maybe trying to figure out a way to regain all of his powers back, or maybe simply gathering strength for when Michael inevitably came for him again.

He leans his head against the cool glass and sighs, allowing himself only a brief moment to sag against the window and wallow in the fact that he has no idea what to do. Then he straightens up and grabs the handle of the suitcase, and wheels it over to where Michael and Adam are loitering near the entrance to the terminal. They're looking at the address written on the back of the envelope that God gave them. They know it's a house—a very large house—but none of them know what they're going to find when they get there, and the uncertainty is making Lucifer incredibly nervous.

Adam looks up and beckons him over, and as Lucifer goes, he hopes that they're not about to make the biggest mistake of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the story, guys! I have to admit, I wasn't expecting to finish this, let alone publish it, but I've gotten a pretty positive response so I'm glad I did. The ending is kind of a cliffhanger so just know that I'm going to post a sequel at some point. Before that, though, I have a few more stories in the works. Speaking of, would you rather me post a SPN Princess and the Frog AU or a SPN Cinderella AU?

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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